Together Again
by CheshireCity
Summary: An odd phenomenon: how differently three pairs of eyes tend to see. Companion fic to Broken Pieces. SebCiel YAOI w/ lemon
1. Delias Eucharis Clean

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter One**

**Delias Eucharis**

_"The world is filled with,_

_the lives of people who try to define_

_The lines that find you,_

_Can anyone save you?_

_The truth is never far away,_

_You always give yourself away_

_Through open eyes in slight of him,_

_Reveal to me."_

Mark Hoppus and Pete Wentz (In Transit)

There was a certain alluring charm about the night time. The stillness and tranquility of it, the peace that wraps around one like a blanket. A certain comfort and wonder in feeling singularly alone. Of feeling _alive_. At least that was how Sebastian Michaelis saw it.

The manor was particularly beautiful at half past midnight. It was then that everything was swathed in the dark robes of night. On the East end, the curtains had been fastened shut, allowing the candlelight to play over every polished surface, casting arrays of multifaceted light spiraling across the lavish rooms. The brushed coppers and bronzes burned more passionately at the flame's passing. The picture frames caught its passion, breathing temporary light into their charges. Even the oriental rugs glimmered hues of gold and orange, otherwise invisible in waking hours. Everything the candlesticks passed caught a flash of liveliness before twinkling back out into darkness.

It was a melancholy notion for Sebastian.

People appeared.

People faded away.

All within a flash, repeating in an endless cycle.

But such was the life of a demon.

He progressed to the West Wing of the manor, where the sun said its final goodbyes before slipping over the horizon. Here the windows lay bare, letting in the distant light of stars and the loving gaze of the moon. She cast motherly embraces to the glinting silverware and pewter vases, spilling over with gentle wisterias and white roses plucked from the garden earlier that very morning. She whispered a farewell as the drapes where drawn closed with a practiced hand, fabric shushing across the hardwood.

There was indeed something very much alive about the quietest hours.

Sebastian made his way along the wing, taking a concealed stairway down into the servant's corridors. The hallway here was narrow, the walls a drab cream, but the butler loved it nonetheless. Up a small set of stairs he could hear Maylene's gentle snoring, dwarfed only by Bard's bear-like accompaniment. Bemused, he proceeded to his own chambers at the far end of the hall, slipping inside the room silently.

The place was as familiar as it was queer. Against the wall was the headboard of a basic bed - the largest of all the servants, he had noted - flanked by a desk on one side, and a dresser on the other. The fireplace sat barren, bathed only by the moonlight that crept in through the undressed window. There was nothing unusual about the room; it was casual, if not simple. Yet Sebastian, in all his sleepless nights, had rarely spent more than a few minutes at a time inside it on a daily basis, and so always felt rather like a visitor than an occupant.

The bureau made a soft thump, and the demon set the candlesticks down upon his desk in reply. Gingerly turning the handle, he peered inside, meeting the curious looks of nine pairs of eyes. The figures flowed out of the boudoir like wraiths, curling around their master's feet and stretching gracefully up on the mattress. Satiated from their afternoon prowl around the gardens, they curled languidly about the room, all watching, it seemed, the demon at their epicenter.

Sebastian shrugged out of his vest and blazer, hanging them back up within the now-unoccupied boudoir in record time. House in order, and without much cause, he sidled onto the bed. The cats around him eyed his behavior curiously, knowing it to be out of turn. A white longhair approached him, pelt shimmering almost lavender as the moon touched her. A small smile curled onto the demons lips as he reached out to stroke the creature. There was a familiar set look in the animals eyes: a determined, if not reproachful, blue.

She pressed against his hand gratefully, eagerly accepting - or rather, demanding - his touch. Sebastian uttered a low chuckle as satisfied purrs rippled throughout the room. His fingers played over her equally pale fur, and for a moment, he felt disgust. His skin was like porcelain. White, and presumed beautiful by many aristocrats, but also hideously fake, like the stagnant countenance of a doll. He curled back into himself, slinking lower upon the mattress until he lay fully, almost curled like the creatures around him.

"It's a crime when the inanimate breathe more life than the living." he whispered to himself. The marmalade across the room meowed in resounding agreement. Not long after, Sebastian's surroundings began to blur into dim pastels as the familiar heat of nine lithe bodies pressed against him.

* * *

The gardens were manicured to perfection, blushing shades of soft pink, yellow, and lavender. The vague images of exotic animals peered over symmetrical hedges, staring, eyeless, down at their leafy brethren. The pathways were trimmed with tiny pebbles and periodically bridged by elaborate arches of trellis. They spiraled to and fro, weaving through the crowd of greenery in purposeful sweeps. The main garden was pruned into a giant diamond, and at its heart was a fountain supported by cherubs. Their eyes looked heavenward to the fluffy clouds and immaculate blue sky.

Aesthetically, there was never a thing out of place around the manor. Even the forest that grew naturally to one side of the house seemed relatively tamed into order. All was peaceful, save for one thing.

"Butler." a feminine voice broke in impatiently. The young man snapped to attention, claret eyes dancing up to check hers before skittering away again.

"My apologies, m'lady." he replied fluidly. "I was merely admiring how lovely the day was - m'lady has selected a fine day for taking tea out-of-doors."

"Of course I have." she scoffed, selecting a scone off of the tray in the center of the table. "I will one day be the lady of this house, so it's only natural that I can select the right afternoon to host tea."

"Not if I inherit it first." a boy called to her. He was broad shouldered, even in youth, with a determined pair of green eyes.

"Rose Petal or Chai?" the young butler asked softly. The female ignored him.

"Don't speak to your sister in such a way, Darwin!" she scolded, sending him a poisonous look as she reached for the jam. "Rachel, dearest, would you pass the Devonshire cream?" she asked of her youngest sibling, voice dripping sweet. The young butler supplied her some without remark.

"I can speak to you how I wish." the boy shot back. "You're just a woman."

"And no lady either!" a fourth sibling chimed. He was thinner than his older brother, with a more drawn looking face.

"Oh Terrence, not you too! See!" the eldest exclaimed shrilly. "You see, Darwin? See what you're teaching your brother?"

The butler righted a tottering glass before it hit the tablecloth, quickly disturbed again as the girl brought it violently to her lips. "What would mother and father think, to see how _un_gentleman-like the two of you are becoming?"

"Can I have a crumpet?" Rachel asked meekly from her seat. The other three siblings grew louder.

"Do you think father would _care_, Mary?" the elder brother scoffed. "Everyone says that I am his mirror image already."

"But mother comes from a strong line of reapers too, you know!" the sister hissed. "Who's to say that _I_ won't take over, hmn? _I_ get the family fortune. _I_ do. So don't you think of getting your greedy little paws on it, you hear?"

The butler considered that the nearby stones cherubs where looking heavenward merely in exasperation. "Rose Petal or Chai?" he tried again.

"I'll take Chai, please." Rachel replied sweetly, setting about buttering the crumpet that had appeared before her.

"Greedy? Me? You've got to be kidding me, dear sister." Darwin snorted, Terrence sniggering beside him, eyes watching his brother's actions attentively. "What would _I_ possibly do with all that cash? Spend it on mink stoles and hat boxes? Don't kid yourself, you're the bigger glutton of the two of us."

"At least I'd spend it on finery and not _women_." Mary shot back. Her brother froze, face contorting in anger. His mirror continued laughing.

"Shut _up_, Terrence." he spat, backing away from the table. The other boy stilled instantly, uncertain what action to take next. "As for _you_, Mary, I won't be conversing with crude women."

"And _I_ won't be conversing with _whores_." she stabbed, laughing mirthfully as her brother stormed away. There was an awkward scramble, and then Terrence followed his brother like a faithful hound, leaving only the two girls and the butler in his wake.

Mary sighed, swirling her cup absently. "Men are scum, Rachel, dearest. Men are scum." she said earnestly.

"Not all of them." the young girl pouted, gingerly fishing a strawberry out of her tea with a spoon.

"Oh, yes." Mary sighed dramatically. "I'm afraid so. Now stop acting like a crazed monkey and be more respectable!"

Rachel's fingers darted from her cup, a nervous blush spreading on her cheeks. "Sorry, sissy, I was just trying to- "

"You need to act more like a lady!" the elder scolded. "Now when you drink tea…" she trailed off, blinking dumbly into her own empty cup. "Aye! Butler-boy! What is the meaning of this?" she scowled, showing him the porcelain belly.

"I was uncertain- "

"I thought I ordered you to pour me tea a while back, now didn't I?"

"I asked your pref- "

"There's no excuses for your lack of professionalism and responsibility." the shinigami interrupted. "None. Why do you think we keep you around, hmn? Why is that? Decoration?"

"No, m'lady, but- "

"You DARE defy me? When I've been so _gracious_ with you in the past? Pour me some tea." she hissed through clenched teeth. The butler hesitated, eyeing the two teapots with apprehension, pondering which selection would betray him. What felt to him like hours later, he made his selection, elegantly filling the cup with clear, ruddy tea. For a second he saw his own claret eyes ripple across the surface, instantly hating the masochistic resolve he saw there. He drew back, standing perfectly poised as the young woman brought the china to her lips. She drew from the cup, setting it with agonizing slowness back upon its saucer, before pinning him with her sharp green eyes.

"Rose Petal." she said finally. "What made you think that I'd want _that_?"

"M'lady requested tea, and so I merely served what I- "

"What _you_? Silly boy, what do you think _you_ have to do with anything, hmn? Do you think that your sense of taste is superior to _mine_? That your judgment is better than mine?"

"No, m'lady." the butler replied quietly.

"Then why on _earth_ would you assume that THIS is what I wanted?" the reaper hissed, shoving the teacup away from her.

"The rose is much like m'lady." the butler uttered quickly. Mary opened her mouth to protest, closing it curiously at his choice of words.

"Go on." she insisted suspiciously.

"Well, it is a symbol of beauty, is it not? Its petals are soft and silken, like finely kept hair and skin. Even a token of wealth, for the Queen herself adores the flower, and only the refined can keep them."

"Well I suppose that _is_ true." the young woman smirked in ill-hid vanity. She dipped her knife back into the Devonshire, spreading it generously over another scone. "Of course I would make such an obvious choice in my tea. See, Rachel, what were you thinking, hmn? Learn to think like a proper lady should."

"Oh, but that's not all, m'lady." the butler added sweetly, a smirk spreading over his lips that was beginning to become his trademark.

"Oh, do tell me more!" Mary squealed, all pretenses gone.

"Well you see, m'lady, for all a rose's beauty there is only bitterness. The materialism of the petals belies the hideous thorns beneath it." He tensed in anticipation as the reaper's hand faltered, painted lips quivering into a snarl.

"Why you…" she laughed in shock, eyes sliding venomously to lock with his outwardly uncaring ones. "Aren't you SO proud of yourself, Durante? Aren't you _witty_?" The butler fought the instinct to back away, not letting his eyes drop or betray him. "Why you little _WRETCH_!"

He wasn't sure why he was on the ground, or how Mary got so tall, but the scent of blood washed over him in waves, and the dripping butter knife in her hand was a clear indication of what might have transpired. "You little demon bastard." she snarled, crouching over him, the extent of her race threatening to release in full.

He looked up at her with a half-hearted glare, already resigning himself to the pain he knew would come. In anticipation, he cupped his hand to his coursing cheek, surprised that such crimson life existed within himself.

And how easily it was destroyed.

How easily it could gush from the body and smear like paint. It was as disgusting as it was entrancing. The entire room was rank of it. Filled with bodies rent this way and that, their own faces wearing more hideous masks than the ones they had been donning only seconds before. Elaborate, white masks; the mock innocence tarnished with their own tainted blood. If not art, then it was elaborate. He had to give himself recognition for that.

His eyes slid back over to the corpse of a boy on the slab. He, too, was bloody. It bubbled, fresh, from around his eye, matting his hair together in sticky clumps. The demon observed him as the boy took another quavering gasp, so far gone that he was impervious to the pain coursing through his system. The wildfire crashing through his veins as the pact solidified itself. Tears fell down familiar tracks on his face, without a sound. On the right side, they mixed with the blood, leaving unusual pink streaks upon the granite alter.

"Is it done?"

The demon almost started at the sound of the voice. When he had been summoned, that voice was strong, demanding. In waking reality it was cracking and feeble, devoid of emotion. Just straight necessity. He looked about at the massacre he had committed, at the atrocities the humans had wrought on their own.

"You are the only other living soul." he said finally. The boy stared up at the ceiling and nodded imperceptibly.

"You are my demon?" Even monotone, it sounded like a statement.

"Your personal demon." the other replied, lips twitching at the double entendre.

"Who are you?"

_'Doriæn Dante.'_ Only silence.

"Then come, Sebastian. Take me h- " he faltered. "Take me away." The demon drew near, lifting the weightless child from the slab, mindful of his own claws. He stared down at the soulless blue eyes, finding the broken pieces of determination, pride, and maybe, just maybe, of happiness.

"Yes, m'lord."

"Sebastian…" the boy murmured, elapsing into unconsciousness.

"Sebastian…" the name echoed on.

"Sebastian."

An order. The demon sat bolt upright, eyes casting wildly about his darkened surroundings.

"Purrow?" the longhaired white inquired, whiskers twitching at the startled man with feline curiosity. Sebastian blinked down at her slowly, settling back into the land of the waking.

"I'm surprised too." He whispered. "I rarely ever sleep, nonetheless _dream_." He gathered himself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothing in a matter of seconds and hoping, for his masters' sake, that it eradicated the cat hair with it. "Better see what it is he requires." Sebastian stated aloud. "If it's cake, I'll kill him."

"Mrrow?" the white cried piteously.

"Honestly." the demon sighed. "I'll be back soon enough. Make sure the others don't get too rowdy, won't you?" he mused lightly, his voice the only thing left in the room as the door finished swinging shut.

Mere seconds later he arrived at Ciel's door, and then he was inside just as quickly. "Yes, my lord?" Distantly, he caught the scent of something that he couldn't place, only that the need to use disinfectant was strong. The young earl lay in his bed, propped up with one arm, an unreadable expression on his face. His complexion looked even more fair than usual.

"Sebastian. Fuck me."

The demon started in genuine shock, his eyes searching out the underlying words his Master must have uttered. Yet there was nothing but raw apathy and the faintest trace of amusement at his servant's uncharacteristic dumbfounded state. The teen regarded his property lazily, a challenging look stirring in his good eye.

"You heard me." the whisper cut like any knife would. "Fuck me. Now."

Sebastian stared a moment longer, an icy feeling settling in his gut as everything became automatic. "Yes, my lord." he replied. He could hear his masters' heart pound against his ribs, very much alive. The drums increased as he drew nearer, climbing gently onto the mattress, and pinning the young earl beneath him. _'Such a curious thing, to be alive.'_ Sebastian thought, looking deeply into anxious blue eyes. After a second, Ciel melted slightly, his body submitting to the powerful creature above him.

_'It is disgusting to what lengths I allow you to make me your possession, my lord. To be not only your butler, but your protector and keeper. And now your whore too? Then,'_ he nimbly pushed the shirt off of his young master's frame, running his palms across rapidly bare shoulders. _'If I am to be both your whore and your possession, then I shall be exactly as you wish, and nothing more.'_ The tumultuous ice grew stronger, and Sebastian dismissed the familiar naked body below him. Beautiful, nubile… a chore. A task. Platonic, like when he was to be dressed. Platonic, like when he was to be bathed.

The drumming went off-kilter as the earl's heart began to pound harder. Sebastian lowered his gaze, intently turning his skilled hands to the objective before him. Sebastian's increasingly feline eyes flickered up to examine the face of his master. _'Still just an order?'_ But his master had no reply aside from the palpitating rhythm between them. The demon suppressed a bitter laugh.

Ciel's heart roared in his butler's ears, the palpitations fluttering like the wings of a caged butterfly. Trapped. _'Trapped.'_ Sebastian reminded himself, actions becoming rough. _'Automatic.'_ Extending a hand to the wicked creature within, he allowed himself to be consumed, eyes flickering defiantly into their natural catlike slits.

_'Why won't you back down? Don't you know that I'm tainting you? …Or am I really only nothing but your toy?'_ It was too much. Far too much to think through. "In due time, my lord." he promised distantly. All reservations and hurt fading away like smoke, he exposed his master to his own carnal delight.

He felt the tremor of anxiety beneath him, the explosion of trepidation that sent the other's heart beating out of control. "My lord should relax." Sebastian whispered seductively into the teen's ear, ghosting breath across the crook of his neck. The earl shivered and nodded distractedly.

For a split second, their eyes met. Those blue pools so uncertain, contrasting garishly with the scent and action of his body. Cat-slitted wine peered back, equally unreadable and glazed over with purpose.

It was everything and nothing at once. It was automatic, instinctual. There were the dark desires of the demon to push harder, to test the limits of this new body, restrained by the methodical mind of the butler who knew the only purpose of the act was to pleasure another, and take nothing for himself. It was empty, yet purposeful.

He was just a toy.

And he wanted more.

The most feral of desires tumbled to the forefront of his otherwise blank brain. The demon nuzzled into the crook of his master's shoulder, poised above it. Unable to restrain himself so far gone, he emitted a dark chuckle, closing in on the vulnerable expanse of flesh where the neck and shoulder met. "It's hard to contain myself." Sebastian remarked huskily, grinning as Ciel shivered against him. Then the earl did the worst thing he could do, the most wonderfully submissive thing he could so ignorantly do, rolling his head aside to bear his neck fully to the teeth that ached to claim and mark and take the flesh beneath them. "I apologize, my lord." Sebastian growled, bowing to his darker urges once more.

He could tell as his mouth filled with blood and intoxicating sugar that the bite had hurt his master. And he sunk in farther, savoring the manifestation of the earl's scent, the animalistic act sending shockwaves of satisfaction and raw pleasure bursting through his veins, overwhelming his senses. Sebastian pulled away, licking and sucking at the mark greedily, the creeping delight that the spot would bruise settling into the back of his mind.

His eyes were electric and demonic now, he could feel it. As he licked the blood from his lips he felt the surge of power course through him, knowing how catlike his now-violet eyes must appear in the darkness. In lust. Under order. As a tool.

At last Sebastian collapsed gracefully over the still body beneath him. And it was over. Spent. Used.

As the last of the pleasure melted away into the darkness, so did the presence of the demon, until all that remained was the butler and the gripping ice cold sensation that permeated his burning body. It felt empty again. Nauseatingly so.

Sebastian slid away, the lingering scent of blood curling up into his nose. With a frown, he felt beneath them, wincing in realization. "I apologize deeply, master." he said, all remnants of huskiness gone. "It would appear that I was a bit too…" he paused awkwardly. "… rough for your body." he finished.

"No need." Ciel muttered, staring beyond him towards the ceiling. The ice curled in the butler's stomach. Used. Discarded.

His mind was blank as he pulled away and cleaned himself up, realizing numbly that he had made it into Ciel's bathroom. Casting about, he procured the pitcher from the washstand. Finding the results of his master's nightmares, he fished a second washbasin from the linen cabinet and filled it - in the way only Sebastian could pull off - within seconds with crystal-clear water, the bowl of sick nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, he pocketed a spare square of linen.

"You vomited." he stated, re-entering the bedchamber.

"I did." Ciel replied matter-of-factly. He was still staring at the ceiling, almost in boredom.

"Are you ill?" the demon posed, settling down on the edge of the mattress. His eyes flashed over the prone form. He hadn't sensed sickness, not even within close proximity.

"No."

"Ah."

The response had been too sudden, and Sebastian no longer felt the patience to pry into it any further. He had lived through enough nights of his master waking up, screaming in terror, to be too concerned. Setting the basin down upon the nightstand, he pulled the linen - a handkerchief of sorts - and wet it in the bowl, watching the fabric seep up the cool water. It did nothing to quell the frozen storm occurring inside him. Ciel lay in silence as his butler bathed his body, wiping away all the evidence: the sweat, the blood. All but the small, angry bruise that blossomed against the crook of the teen's neck.

Sebastian rose gracefully from the bed, letting the stained linen fall into the washbasin, the blood spiraling out across the surface of the water, tainting even the lunar reflection. "I'll retire to my room now, my lord." the demon murmured, hand already on the door. He paused, reflecting back a moment. "I'll prepare breakfast and wake you a bit later than usual, my lord. You'll need your rest."

Within the lapse of silence that followed, Sebastian had slipped from the room, gone before the door had finished closing, heading to find solace in the kitchen below.

* * *

The sky was overcast, soft grey pallor causing the surrounding vegetation to appear ultra-bright against the drab surroundings. Uneven brick steps were embedded in the sloping pavement, already overgrown with wild grass and weeds. The scent of freshly tilled earth contrasted harshly with the musk that spread in a thin mist from the numerous sepulchers dotted across the cemetery. In the distance, a black wrought iron fence boxed the fields of endless sleep in. Sebastian was still trying to puzzle out what exactly it was that brought he and his master to the place that morning.

"An odd request to come here, my lord." he quipped, hoping to prod an explanation from the younger male. Ciel effectively ignored him, continuing to climb uphill through the dotted landscape of eroding stone slabs, the names of the fallen fading away into time unannounced. _'Like the flickering flames of candlelight. Here one moment, and blown out the next.'_ His eyes shifted ahead imperceptibly. _'One day you, too, will fade away, young master.'_

He could see the odd rigidity in how the earl walked, feeling an odd smirk catch his features. The way the teen held his cane in a death grip, the way he leaned on it far more than an ornamental cane should ever need be used… _'Perhaps you decided to visit this morn to pay tribute to your lost virginity?'_ The demon pondered in amusement. _'Humans are always so sentimental about the queerest of things.'_

After a labored pause, the earl continued along the rolling hills, weaving through weedy plots and irregular brick pathway. At last, the duo reached the heart of the cemetery. Here, the scent of antiquity was the strongest, and Sebastian knew instinctively that there were graves surrounding him that had been there longer than he had been alive. The Phantomhive family plot was easily one of the largest, sprinkled with a small multitude of headstones and edged with white granite, rather than brick, a miniature fence that mirrored the cemetery gates serving as its border.

The demon glanced about in slight unease. Despite human misconception, a graveyard was not a place for his kind. The passing of each candlelight was a tick mark in the book of a reaper. The cemetery was like a playground for the keepers of death, for they were the lords of it and had no fear of it. Humankind had a reserved anxiety for the places of those before them and of the places they were destined for. For them, the lifecycle was too brief, too fleeting, and the inescapable fate of death crept at the backs of their minds. The stone angels and cherubs stood guardian over their departed, but looked only flightless and condemned in the eyes of a demon.

He looked to the huddled form of his master as he sat before the newest marker, shifting uncomfortably under the suspicious glares of the stone goddesses that stood vigil over Phantomhives past. _'I know I don't belong here.'_ He muttered internally, standing very much like a statue himself. After a moment of prolonged silence, he sighed, the memories of the night prior pervading his thoughts with soft, fluttering wings.

When it had ended, it had been ambiguous. Graciously so, as a matter of fact. And that open-endedness bothered Sebastian greatly. With a blurry conscience, he had left his master's chambers, descending to his own safe haven, feet thinking more for him than his brain was. Quiet so as not to disturb the rest of the household, he had set about preparing for breakfast and that afternoon's tea. The lemon squares would be ready precisely for the evening meeting with Baron Thatcher. The miniature vanilla cheesecakes would similarly have finished setting by that night, perfect for after dinner. Yet his passions had done little to stem the flow of tumultuous thoughts, and, at last, he rose to wake the manor, ushering the sunlight back indoors.

With scorn this time he noted the glimmering life the light brought the contours of the walls, the budding flowers in the gardens, the golden spines of the many books in the studies and libraries. When he looked at his own flesh, all he saw in the morning sun was translucent, almost sickly looking skin. He wondered distantly - yet also very presently - if his master made the same observations when he looked at him. The previous night had certainly called that into question. To order such a base thing of Sebastian was confusing. For one, it was primal. Disgusting and manipulative, even. Yet at the same time it was a display of submission and, as far as the earl would see it, of weakness as well. To entrust his body to someone for the first time after his tragic months as a slave. As a sacrificial virgin. A victim. Was it just his manner of coping? To feed his body's own desires by looking at another as a tool rather than a being?

Then that frosty curl would seep back inside the butler, and he would force his thoughts away. It wasn't as though he was personally invested. It wasn't even as though he had any reservations about laying with his master, moral or otherwise. In a demon's eyes, the teen was on the market to be taken mate. To be his forever and ever for eternity. Remembering that brought on a different sensation, this one an acidic tasting charcoal on the inside of his mouth. While Ciel may have been bound to him by contract, his soul doomed to be consumed by the very demon who had spared him from his waking nightmares, he was still an elusive person. _'A songbird,'_ Sebastian regretfully put it. _'A certain Viscount would say the same.'_ But it was an accurate assessment. The earl was a person meant to be heard, to be admired, yet always remain distant. Always lighting about from one place to another, always cautious of staying still in one location for too long, else something bigger than him come along and end him. It was a beautiful tragedy. But Sebastian had committed an indiscretion against the nature of things. He had chained his songbird with his own horrid nature.

His eyes flickered to the prone form before the grave. _'You'll be mine forever and ever for eternity, master. Do you know? You played with fire, my lord, you tempted me. I was only trying to be your ever faithful servant. And so it seems that I've drug you further down the rabbit hole with me.'_ The acidic tang flamed up. Ciel had used him, plain and simple, as if he held no more worth than a common whore. And the demon had fought back, laying claim to something that didn't belong to him in the first place. It was a fine mess they had landed themselves in.

The earl hadn't stirred. Perhaps it _was_ his innocence he had come to lament.

Trying to shake the feelings attacking him inside, Sebastian shifted, folding his arms across his chest. The stone guardians seemed to be scrutinizing him with particular disdain now. "If my lord is finished having a staring contest with a stone," he began irately, squashing down the emotions bubbling up. "We are growing ever late to our scheduled meeting with Baron-"

"Shut _up_." Ciel hissed, cutting through the foggy morning. "It may be a stone to you, but monuments are precious things to humans."

Sebastian hesitated slightly before bowing. "I'm sorry, then to have upset your-" his brow quirked in annoyance. "-_grieving_, I-"

"What." the earl glared, countenance growing icy.

The butler contemplated the cold blue eye. "If it is not out of place for me to say, my lord," he began, looking dubiously out over the sprawling expense of cemetery, before resting claret upon the very inanimate tomb before them. "I never considered you to be the sentimental type."

The earl jolted from his seat, wavering slightly and clutching furiously at his cane. Anger rippled off of him in waves, the scent of boiling berries tinged with the electric undercurrent of fear. His hair fell across his face like a curtain, and the butler wondered if tiny pinpricks of tears had begun to form. "Sebastian." the voice was low and falsely strong.

"Yes, master?" the demon replied, bowing in his customary manner. Anticipating the return home and the end of his master's eccentric yearnings.

"Leave." the whisper trickled back to him, disturbingly final. For a second, everything froze. _'Leave? Forever…?'_ He stared back in shock, head cocked slightly. Then the cogs began to turn once more, banishing the reckless panic. He was being ordered away like a child for acting out, not banished. That cold voice. A metaphorical slap on the face, reminding him of his status. A butler. A possession. It may have been the events of the night before replaying in his mind, but then he too was as frozen as the angels and goddesses condemning him from above. He bowed curtly, almost gone before the words had left his lips.

"Yes my lord."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **CheshireCity here with the first chapter of Together Again- as a lot of you may or may not know, this is the companion fic to Broken Pieces by ChocolateMoosey; I have permission from her to post this (in fact, she was the one who harassed me to write it in the first place...), so if you're unfamilar with the story, please be sure to give it a look.

**EDIT:** This chapter has had the lemon scene edited out of it so that the story is not removed from the site. For the full version, see my main page.


	2. Morpho

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter Two**

**Morpho **

_"I scratch your sweet name_

_Right into my skin_

_You left me bleeding_

_But I couldn't give in._

_I swallowed the poison to get infected_

_Give back my heart that your body rejected._

_Oh no, I'll never let you go_

_Oh no, I hate that I need you so.__"_

Tokio Hotel (Attention)

There was something about carriages that had always fascinated Sebastian. The way the varying pace of the horses would change the look of the landscape. How at full gallop, they made the rolling hills and dense thickets blur and turn into watercolors. Yet for him, a demon, the change was an odd mixture of being both slothly slow and humanly quick. The last two weeks had been just as prolonged and as fleeting. He had kept to himself a bit more than usual, willing himself to fade away into the background of daily life, to become a muted color at the edges of his Master's focus. The bitterness, too, had finally ebbed away, leaving in its place a horrid taint of guilt and disgust. And he felt, for the first time in a very long time, weak.

He had to, of course, stick to his aesthetics when the order had been issued. There had never been a question about that, nor doubts of his own loyalty. There was none of that. It was the sick, twisting _need_ that had sprung up from those words. It wasn't quite carnal, but it wasn't solely emotional, either. It was the sinking, hollow realization that something, somewhere deep inside was empty and missing. The startling truth that he himself was no more than an observer within the human world he now found himself – that he only had the right to watch from behind a glass, sealed away. Untouchable and isolated. And the desperation to break those walls disgusted him. It was weak. To desire. To _wish_ for things that would, ultimately, only kill him internally in the end.

Sebastian wasn't sure when it had happened. When he had bared the most private part of himself to this mortal world; had freely dispensed access into his personal being. To allow… to allow humans into his own heart. It was more than fool. They would come and go in mere instants to him, leaving nothing but painful memories and invisible scars. It was no different with his master. He couldn't place when obligation had morphed into respect and faithful duty, which in turn melded into appreciation and…

Ciel Phantomhive was a sickly young teenager who had sealed his own fate. By Sebastian's own hands, no less. He would die and there was no avoiding it. It was an ever-present, morbid fact that demon and earl alike openly acknowledged. Manipulated. Everything between them was a matter of business and convenience. Direct. Methodical. Sterile and straightforward.

So why… why was it that above all else, it was _that_ person's acknowledgement that he craved? More than anything… why was it that when all was said and done, the one person whose acceptance – whose adoration, should he be so bold – he wanted above all else was his own master's. A human's. Something inside him clenched just thinking about it, and every time it did, it felt colder as the glass between their worlds grew sharper and more apparent. He had no business at all wishing for the things he could not have. Yet when that order was issued… all of the tiny cracks in his resolve, all of the little fissures that had wormed their way into his – he daren't say it, _heart_ – had magnified and spread agape, clawing up desperately to clutch at any inkling of affection found within those scant words. He had let down his barriers. And it had betrayed him.

And in this manner, things had gone by much too agonizingly slow. He had allowed desires and hopes to thrive, only for them to expire and fester just as he knew that they would. And it made that hollow space within him ache all the more. Sebastian had tried in earnest to busy himself. The Phantomhive manor had never been as productive as it had in the two weeks that had followed what he ominously dubbed 'That Day'. He reckoned that he could temporarily open a bakery with the amount of food he had wastefully produced. Hell, he could run half of Funtom's food stores on his will and inward letdowns alone. It wasn't so much self pitying, he decided, as it was self disappointment. And no matter how hard he busied himself in his tasks and constant siege on the kitchen, he couldn't quite keep his thoughts from crashing around endlessly in his head.

Yet at the same time, time had been much too fleeting. It was an awkward combination of feelings, and somehow the days, which were usually so scheduled and decisive, had blurred into one large messy span of existence. It didn't take Sebastian long to realize that there was an air of change about the manor. A sudden pervasive sweetness that was overpowering yet pleasant all at the same time. For days, he went about in a confused but accepting state – the new scent was refreshing, if not curious. It lingered here and there: sometimes along the library shelves, mingled with the linens, the pressed shirts, and even across the backs of the couches. It was almost like having another woman in the house, and the normalcy of those implications pleased Sebastian.

Until the implications became all too clear in one crashing, blinding moment.

And that was when the guilt had kicked in. Because he had known – oh, he had known – precisely what foul he had committed 'That Day'. Sinking his fangs into that yielding, virginal neck. Because he knew that his master would have no idea the ways in which he had submitted to the demon's natural urges and needs. The need to take a mate, to have and to hold as long as they both should live. And Sebastian, true to form, had greedily and readily accepted the willing body before him.

It had been strange, the first few days, feeling a distant notion of elation or sadness that hadn't belonged to him. It was fleeting, to be sure, but still present and a constant reminder of the wrongs he had committed against his master and himself. It was this in-tune nature of the matehood that had caused his world to stutter. Sickness.

It had crept up upon him and had hit the demon full force. The sweetness, the fluctuating foreign emotions that paraded about at the back of his mind at all hours of the day, the cold sweat feelings of sickness that stole over him when he himself felt and performed perfectly normal. He had selected his mate for eternity and somehow, someway had…

'_But there is no feasible way.'_ He thought, pushing the trolley towards the bedside. The prone form of his master stirred into wakefulness, and a feeling rose within him that he quickly squashed down. There was no doubt in his head any more. It didn't make sense, yet it seemed to be inescapably true. _'I apologize in advance, young master.' _He sighed, fingers automatically twitching to work, mind elsewhere. _'I fear you'll hate me by the end of all of this.'_ He lingered a moment in his work, reveling greedily in the exceedingly sweet scent that bloomed as his master sat up in bed. It was soft, feminine yet not flowery. Just… just _Ciel_, only sweeter and more alluring. Very fertile. _'Very _pregnant_.'_

"You look like death, m'lord." Sebastian noted, handing over a teacup with a little more force than necessary. The teen took it, still not quite back to the world of the living. He grunted in an unamused sort of way, letting the steam curl up from the cup, intermingling with his ever-changing scent. He shook his head in protest as his emotions spiked.

"I feel like it was well."

Sebastian frowned, sensing the waves of nausea that surged up upon his young mate. He sighed, thinking of some way to work around the apparent problem. Apparent to him, anyway. He had tried to excuse the now-routine illness open dietary changes and sudden lack of food. But he knew more than his master could ever hope to comprehend the way that appetite had failed his young mate, coming off in such strong of waves that it had affected the demon as well. The previous day he had spent time in the kitchen staring down at a bird he had freshly caught, all sense of hunger evanescing away. It was frustrating, to say the least.

"You should eat breakfast, young master. It may help settle your stomach."

"Tea is the only thing I can handle right now, Sebastian." Ciel countered. He was so resolute in these things that it was downright maddening. "I thought I informed you of this—" he broke off with a scowl. His emotions seemed to mimic it, too. It was nearly comical. "and why isn't this peppermint?"

Sebastian sighed in exasperation, all hopes for normalcy to return to _his_ personal schedule darting away wildly into the morning light. It was bound to be a very, very long nine months for him. His eyes flicked up to watch his master throw his head back, downing the hot liquid like alcohol.

"Master, it's not vodka." Sebastian frowned, leaning over to wipe stray traces of tea off of Ciel's face. "And you are far from a drunk." _'Not that I would allow for you to be, pregnant or not.'_

"I feel like one." His master muttered, sulking against his sheets. Sebastian quirked an eyebrow. _'And you would know this, _how_, exactly?' _

"-only thing that will help." The teen concluded.

"Still, that is no excuse." The demon retorted, bussing away the food and refilling the porcelain cup. "And to answer your earlier question, it is because my lord has gone through our supply of peppermint tea like Master Lau through a bag of opium." There was just a vague amount of terseness there. Just a smidgeon. Sebastian sighed to himself; damn the sharing of being in matehood that made even him irritable and short tempered.

"What a crude comparison." Ciel scoffed, throwing back more tea.

'_Really now?'_ the demon sighed, arching a brow. Such an unsightly spectacle. Almost as if realizing his thoughts, the earl blushed, righting himself and returning the teacup to its saucer on the trolley. "As much as I enjoy white tea, I really must insist that you go into town and refill our supply of peppermint." He supplied, trying to right the awkward moment. "It's the only thing that seems to sate this illness."

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian nodded with a bow. Instantly, the images of his master going about his day _alone_ and _unguarded_ brought sharp pinpricks of protest to the back of his mind. The demon was loathe to acknowledge the feeling stealing over him in waves, but knew it for what it was nonetheless. "But_ I_ must insist that you accompany me." He intoned, fighting to keep his voice clear and free from the possessive growl that fought to be heard.

"For what purpose?" the young earl scowled, extending his hand in expectation of the morning post his butler placed there. Distantly, Sebastian could feel traces of displeasure.

"With my young master ill as he is as of late, I would feel uncomfortable leaving him alone in the presence of –." He cut off abruptly, saved for once by the cacophonic sound of crashing from out in the garden, punctuated by a surprisingly loud declaration of innocence. _'From those bumbling fools who can't tell the difference between a rake and a hoe, nonetheless a friend from an enemy.'_ He finished to himself, straightening up to assess the damage. He watched as the young heir refolded the paper, a frown creasing his brow, coupled with the sensation of distinct worry and frustration. The demon fought down a triumphant smile. _'Even you know, young master, that they could never protect you like I can.'_

"Would you be so kind as to check to see if anyone has been maimed?" the earl instructed, voice a bit strained as he poured over an article laden with grand illustrations. The demon made a mental note to purchase the copies of _The Strand_ and _Beeton's Christmas Annual _that featured the works of the author addressed in the article. It figured that a detective series would queue his master's interest. He uttered a quick agreement before pacing over to the window and almost unwillingly drawing back the lace screen.

Below, two figures darted about animatedly, torn between scooping up glinting glass shards and teetering on the brink of causing more destruction. _'Stop wrecking my house! Must you be so hell bent on destroying it? …_Again_.'_ he groaned internally, feeling the possessiveness returning. "It would appear as if Finnian and Bard have managed to completely shatter another window." He said with a pained expression. He wasn't going to question how, oh he wasn't going to question–

"Would you mind killing them for me?" Ciel asked conversationally, unphased and still engrossed in the morning post. A dark grin spread across the demon's lips. Or maybe he _would_ question how… he rolled his fingers into stiff, clawed weapons, cracking his knuckles in the process.

"That depends if you are serious or not, young master." He mused, the thrum of action coursing through him. Serious or not, the failings of the others always boded well for his demonic blood. It wasn't that he was intrinsically cruel, per se, just… _pent up._

A dry laugh shook his thoughts away. "No. But feel free to discipline them in any way you please."

'_That wouldn't kill or maim a human, that is.' _The demon supplied.

"I'll need another few minutes to fully awaken; have a carriage ready for us in an hour."

"Right away." Sebastian practically hummed, offering a quick bow and trying to erase the impish grin that refused to go away. Before the door had finished shutting, the demon found himself leering over the incompetent cook and gardener.

"Augh! What if we paste it back together?" the small blonde cried, gloved fingers scooping together a hopelessly shattered pile of debris.

"Well… maybe we could put up a cur… tain…" Bard suggested, words failing him as his eyes widened in horror. And then he was flat on his ass, visioning wavering in splotches of color and blackness. Finny whimpered and cowered in place.

"This was the sixth window this month, was it?" the demon smiled placidly, a chilling bite to his words. The servants shrank away.

"A-ah… was it?" the young gardener squeaked, poking his fingers together. "I wasn't countin', Mr. Sebastian, honest."

"I'm sure you weren't." the other replied, eyes heavily lidded but nonetheless potent. "And who was it _this_ time?"

"A-ah, uhm, it was… sorta, uhm…"

"Well how was I supposed ta' know that it would do _that_?" Bard frowned, straightening himself up as the world look a bit less Monet and Degas and a bit more Millet and Courbet. A pair of garnets pinned him down to the spot.

"You may take your leave, Finnian." The butler said silkily. "It appears I need to have a word with Bardroy." The duo paled considerably.

"Look, Mr. Sebastian, I-I can explain, I— WHUAGH!" There was a horrible splintering sound as his words cut short, the demon pressed uncomfortably close behind him, holding his limb hostage and pinned at an awkward angle.

"Failure to exert caution in one's work will lead to most _unfavorable_ results, no?" the demon hissed, polite for all but in tone. The chef nodded wordlessly, sweat beading on his brow. "Now make yourself useful and prepare a carriage. God help you if you manage to screw _that_ up." A split second later, the man was alone and dazed, the demon already safely inside the foyer as inklings of guilt rose within him. Perhaps he had been a bit rougher than he intended? That snap sounded a tad too final… he sped through the manor, shoes scantly brushing the carpeted stairs as he ascended them. Humans were so frail.

'_Yet none quite as frail as you, hmn?'_ he mused, suddenly beside his master's bed and peering into the washroom where the young earl stood, straddling the wash basin. _'And you question why I don't want you out of my sight.' _He added, stomach coiling at the thought of another demon laying so much as a _claw_ on what was rightfully _his_. _His_ mate.

"Young master is as charming as ever." Sebastian purred, reveling in his wrongful prize. The young man started, turning to face his servant as he righted his clothing. It was a bit of a wry compliment, the demon admitted, given the earl's now-common appearance of disarray, but it was an applicable one, all the same. To him, at least, constantly bombarded by the sweet and alluring scent of sweetened _Ciel_, some unnatural euphony of strawberries and French pastries that was so distinct to the young earl. An altered scent that was, no matter how morally bankrupt, entirely his own doing. The thought brought him sheer satisfaction.

"That was quick." The other replied, fighting to keep the surprise from his voice. He had somehow become impervious to the demon's comments as of late. Sebastian wondered if thick headedness was a symptom of pregnancy, chalking it up to general belief that estrogen itself was an agent of general haughtiness and disregard.

"I'm very efficient at getting my point across." The demon supplied, fingering at his tie as he bid his master follow him. "I've set out your clothing and arranged for a carriage, just as you've instructed."

'_Generally speaking, I made a chart precisely a week ago of your scheduled clothing and do so each Saturday for conveniences sake and physically manhandled and bullied our beloved chef into getting his ass in gear and hitching up a horse instead of dismantling this establishment.'_

"Good." Ciel said, nodding, innocently unaware of his loyal servant's internal monologues, and allowing Sebastian to lift his nightshirt from his frame. The morning ritual went unnoticeably quicker than usual, the earl being completely unaware of the internal war that was being waged inside of his butler.

Sebastian bit his tongue firmly, feeling the blood roar in his veins as he first uncovered and then covered his master's milky smooth skin, reveling secretly for once in the gentle dips and curves in the other's frame. The elegant porcelain set of his wrists and ankles, and perfect, alluring structure of his hip bones as the skin smoothed out down, down to… The demon could taste the distinct tang of copper as he helped the earl into his waistcoat, willing the blood and his impure thoughts to disappear entirely.

"The fresh air should help to relax you, master." He uttered, trying to forcefully divert his attentions. Mate or no, they lived in two separate worlds. Human and demon, lord and servant. Moreover, there was no way in which he could transcribe the culture he came from to his master. No way to explain the feelings he felt, or the traditions he distantly knew of. There was certainly no way to explain that to any outsider. He couldn't very well justify their bond to another noble by saying that in demon standards, puberty made their union perfectly acceptable and no, he was _not_ a pervert, thank you very much. Something panged horribly within him, but he ignored it at the sound of popping tendons. Concern flooded over him. Regardless of the others, he could at least entertain the notion of matehood in privacy.

His fingers flitted to Ciel's shoulders, gently massaging out the stiff muscles just beneath the skin. The earl started, unfamiliar with the affectionate action before melting into the touch, unknowingly slipping into his subservient allotment in his union. Sebastian laughed, trickles of delight invading him as he worked his fingers earnestly. At least he could care for him. That, at minimum, would be enough to satiate him. "Do you enjoy that, my lord?" he murmured, inhaling the gentle soaps and oils worked into the lord's hair as his lips pressed to his ear.

"Uhn." The earl sighed, eyes sliding closed in pleasure as the fingers expertly soothed out his taught muscles. "How did you get so good at this?"

"Why, it's only natural that a servant of the Phantomhive household would be able to do this." Sebastian supplied wryly, much to the chagrin of his master.

"Oh come off it." The younger retorted with the wistful smile, holding still as the fingers came up gently across his face, threading through his hair as the eyepatch was secured into place, obscuring their _other_ private union from the gazes of others. Sebastian discouraged himself from caressing the spot, now face to face with the young lord. _'Just further proof that you are mine and mine alone.'_

"But I will admit that it is a pleasurable talent of yours." The earl continued, eyes still lidded.

The demon's lips quirked into a smirk, his thoughts spiraling southwards…

"Why didn't you inform me of this before?"

Nimble fingers ceased their movements, allowing the ribbon ends to fall gracefully among locks of dark hair. They paused a moment longer before cascading down the earl's frame with the faintest of touches, settling possessively against the vulnerable nape of his neck and the slender curve of his back, pulling the younger infinitesimally closer. "Because I knew once you knew of this talent, you would never want my hands off of you." He whispered, willing Ciel's scent to mirror his own heady desires, almost instantly welcomed with the subtle submissions of the earl's body, the willingness of his scent to be taken, touched, and thoroughly—

The harsh knock at the door instantly derailed his thoughts, breaking the pair from their intoxicated positions. A low growl pooled in the back of the demon's throat, coming out instead as a more refined sigh of distaste. He extracted himself from Ciel and strode unnaturally quickly to the double doors, stepping beyond them into the earl's private sitting room, dimly aware that said earl was at his heels.

"Yes, Maylene?" he asked a bit tersely. The redhead quavered slightly.

"Sorry to interrupt your morning ritual, Master!" she squawked, fumbling a curtsey to the young lord before turning to the butler. "But I had a question for Mister Sebastian."

"_Yes_?" the demon incited, voice laced with venom. He had already accepted the fact that the moment had been lost, but the rest of him was still coping with the fact that he was definitely _not_ going to get any. He drummed his fingers irately against the doorframe to distract him from growing his claws. The last thing he needed was to have to replace _another_ pair of gloves. Sensing his foul mood, the maid shrunk away, the scent of doubt rising from her.

"Well, uhm." She stuttered, fiddling with her glasses and looking about to anywhere that wasn't inhabited by a sexually frustrated demon. "I—I was just wondering if Bard's arm was supposed to bend that way…?"

"Most likely not." Sebastian answered shortly, suddenly not minding his unintentionally cruel actions in light of his new losses. He cast a curious glance at his master as he obscured his mouth with a gloved hand and retreated into his bedchamber.

"Uhm." The maid tried again, shifting her weight from foot to foot awkwardly. "Can you maybe… fix it?"

Sebastian pinned her with as much derision as his eyes could muster. "I suppose." He finally hummed. "My lord?" he sighed, turning to gaze at his mate over his shoulder.

"Go ahead; I have something to attend to." The earl waved him off, stepping back into the role of a noble than as a twitterpated young demon. Reluctantly, he slunk away, following the bobbing red mass of maid through the sitting room and down several flights of stairs into the servant's quarters on the opposing end of the mansion. The kitchen smelled strongly of cooking potato and earthy vegetables as he stepped through the wooden doors. Bard sat at a stool, wincing painfully as he stirred at a pot, his other arm bent horrifically to one side. Sebastian internally winced. Overkill was never quite his style.

'_And to think you assembled a carriage that way. Good show, old sport.'_

There was a small squeak as Finny scampered out of the room and back into his gardens, prompting Bard to look back at the demon and chuckle nervously. "Uh… am I doin' it right?" he laughed, indicating to the broth he was making.

"For once, yes." The butler answered softly, pacing over to him. "Extend your arm to me, if you please. I'll set it right again." With a wince, the chef did as told, looking decidedly away as the joint popped loudly back into place.

"Gotta watch that inhuman strength sometime." He laughed shortly, setting his jaw to keep from reacting to the pain. Sebastian looked up at him, fighting the alarm welling within him. "Awe, come off it…" the chef smiled. "I know ya ain't human. Dunno _what_ exactly, but I don't care, neither. We're all a bit different here, anyways…" he added, throwing a meaningful look out to the garden door.

Sebastian sighed, allowing his shoulders to go lax in a vaguely defeated manner. "So long as it's secret." He muttered, pulling clusters of ingredients closer to the chef as he resumed his work.

"'Course." The American nodded. "You're our Mr. Sebastian, yeah? We're all each other has… like… like a family." He gulped, staring into the bronze pot to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks. The demon blinked in surprise. Family… His thoughts turned back to the young man upstairs. He had never in all his years known 'family'.

"A-and it's thanks to you 'nd Master Ciel that we even have a good roof o'er our heads, so, uh…" Bard filled in awkwardly.

"I should learn to be a bit more forgiving to my family, then." The demon interjected softly. The chef stopped short and stared, agape, as Sebastian sprinkled freshly diced carrot into the pot. "My apologies for earlier. My frustrations got the better of me; I will try not to react in such a way again." A split second later, the demon stood beyond the aged doors, gazing inwards.

"'C-Course." The cook nodded, a humbled look settling upon him. "Don't worry about it." The demon dropped his gaze, filled with a foreign feeling he didn't quite know how to handle, and retreated quickly back up to his master's bedchamber, seeking out the slightest comforts of normalcy.

"I apologize for the constant coming-and-going— " he began, battling away the frustration of growing cluelessness he had been feeling the past few weeks. He frowned at the seemingly-vacant room, eyes dropping to the prone form curled into the sheets very much like a cat. "'Something to attend to', you said?" he sighed, righting his personal composure before scooping the earl up into a more decent appearance. "Young master, you'll wreck your clothing." He chided, wincing at the thought of another vexing two hours of ironing while meticulously making sure _not_ to melt the fine lace that trimmed nearly _every_ article of the other's clothing. Damn the fashions of the modern day and his strict desires to adhere to them when ordering his master's clothing.

His annoyance melted away as a dull blue eye peered up at him. "I think I would like a scone after all." The confidant tone returned as though with each stroke of his hand Sebastian was banishing not only ensuing wrinkles, but his frailties as well. "Plain, if you'd please." The earl amended, chorused by a low whine from his midsection. "I merely need to get something in my stomach."

Sebastian, being the dutiful servant he was, of course, had obliged to his master's wishes, but now, sitting across from the ailing lord amidst his own ponderings, he couldn't help but wonder if he should have fought the request or not.

"I'm going to vomit." The younger whimpered for the millionth time in under an hour. Sebastian had considered taking count of how many times it was said, but gave up somewhere around twelve. He sighed, willing his patience to stretch till the end of their journey, rearranging himself as gracefully as possible.

"You're not going to vomit, my lord." He said, sounding much calmer than he felt. "Just keep your head between your legs."

"_That's just making the problem worse!_" the earl spat, gagging a bit as the carriage hit a particularly nasty pothole. Sebastian momentarily entertained the thought of doling out Phantomhive wealth to the city for the betterment of public roads, if nothing else but for the welfare of pregnant women (and others, he supplemented) everywhere, and for the well-being of any person who should have the great misfortune of crossing him by the end of the drive. Reigning himself in, he resituating himself so he was folded neatly behind his master, fingers instinctually reaching out to massage comforting circles into the young lord's fatigued back.

"There now." He uttered softly, "Better?"

There was a vague nod as the sweet smell of appreciation and relief piqued, only to be marred again by a sharp dip in the streets below them as dirt abruptly gave way to jarring cobblestone. Sebastian's eyes narrowed in annoyance as the Phantomhive fortune teetered dangerously towards the prospect of city upkeep.

"_Stop the carriage!_" Ciel cried out, seizing. The hired coachman let out a gruff 'whoah', drowned out by the obedient whinny of the tethered Cleveland Bay's as the carriage ground to a halt. The earl leapt from the compartment, shakily steadying himself against a nearby tree whilst his breakfast chose to make an encore appearance. Sebastian stood sentinel beside the carriage, assuming the role of footman all the while astutely assuring himself that his young mate was, indeed, healthy, all things considered. He coughed and sputtered, still shivering against the violent tremors and pressing a handkerchief to his lips. He turned back to his ride and butler, a foul visage upon his features as if scathingly asking why on earth the demon had demanded his assistance.

'_Because I can't bear the thought of you parting from me, my lord.' _The butler whispered to himself, offering instead a calm smile. "Better?"

"Sod off." Ciel seethed, clambering back into the carriage with as little assistance as he could afford.

'_You can't pretend to be so rebellious and independent when you can barely mount a carriage on your lonesome.'_ The demon thought bemusedly. "Do you believe you'll be well enough to make tomorrow's appointment with Miss Elizabeth?" he asked in smooth retort. The earl's face crumpled into a grimace.

"Don't make me vomit, again, Sebastian."

The demon frowned, torn between glee and disapproval. "Master." He admonished, lowering his voice warningly. Before he could begin on the proper treatment and etiquette of courting women, he was waved off by an irritated earl.

"I'm hardly in the mood, Sebastian." He huffed, sulking childishly in his seat. "And to answer your question, I'd prefer to rest for the next several days, rather than go to meetings. They only seem to worsen my condition."

'_Yes, responsibility is just oh so horrid for pregnancy, isn't it?'_Sebastian mused, stifling a laugh and choosing to hold his tongue and direct his attentions elsewhere. London continued to blur, melting quickly from countryside into city, crowded up with uniform houses and bustling shop fronts, declaring their wares from freshly painted wooden signs and framed by the occasional streetlamp, wicks long extinguished in wake of morning light. It wasn't too horribly different from the London of his own childhood. Busier, yes, but in ways just as spirited and cultured as before, now dressed up with the finest of lace and decorum. At length, the carriage eased to a halt at the curbside of their destination, a sign mindfully painted beside the door, bearing the address "192 Baker Street", below which was written in fanciful green script, "Adler Emporium of Tea".

The driver dismounted and opened the door for the two riders, extending his hand to the earl. A shiver of distaste ran up the demon's spine, and he caught the man's hand with the politest look he could bear. "If you would be so kind,"

' –_to keep your paws away from what does not belong to you –'_

"As to pick us up in two hours' time, it would be greatly appreciated." He finished, leaving the coachman to stare in dumb shock at the fifty pound note that had seemingly materialized in his still-outstretched hand. "My lord?" the demon quipped, gently gathering the young earl up by his waist and depositing him safely upon the clean sidewalk. The cabby took the opportunity to tear his gaze from his filled hand to the butler, finally registering that the man had managed to get outside the carriage without his notice.

"I would appreciate it," Ciel ground out, ignorant of the spectacle playing out beside him and stalking towards the shop door, "If you refrained from carrying me around like a sack of rice in public." Sebastian supposed that the words were meant to be threatening, but he couldn't help but smile in amusement at the lords antics, holding the door open from him as they entered the shop with the faintest jingle of bells.

"But young master," he protested coyly, following into the aesthetically overwhelming emporium. "I didn't even toss you over my shoulder." Noticing the tightening of the earl's grip on his walking cane, he added a brief, "This time", reveling in the blush that Ciel thought he had contained.

"Be with you sirs in a second!" a voice called out, followed immediately by a low groan. The butler perked up, sensing all too clearly the nausea that had cascaded upon his young mate.

"The smell is too strong." Ciel stated, refilling around for his handkerchief before recalling, belatedly, that it had already been used. Imperceptibly, Sebastian exchanged the linen for his own; gently bracing the younger's shoulder. "I'll go stand out front while you purchase the tea."

"Yes, my lord." The other replied naturally. "How much would you like me to purchase?"

The earl paused a moment, hand grasping the doorframe, cogs visibly turning in his head as he gave a deranged laugh. "_All of it._" He grinned manically, before near as traipsing (or as best as one could when ill from unnatural pregnancy) out into the streets of London. Sebastian stared after him a moment longer before resigning himself to the odd request and turning back to the counter just as an apron-donned man approached, dusting his hands together.

"For you, sir?" he asked humbly, flipping open his ledger and casting about for a pen.

"Ah… well…" Sebastian paused, feeling a bit dazed.

"Ah, I see, not used t' me, eh? Me daughter's out 'nd 'bout, God bless her soul." The shopkeep laughed awkwardly. "Always gettin' in trouble somehow, Lord help her. Got an eye for adventure tha' one, jus' like her mother, now, erm…" he broke off, suddenly aware of his surroundings. "Fine man like yerself… you here for tea 'r her hand?"

"Ah…" the demon blinked, taken aback.

"Ahhh, I see now. No worries, you look like a respect'ble gentlemen, now I— "

"My master requests all of your peppermint tea." The butler blurted out, staring at the inkwell determinedly.

'_Damn it, stop acting like such a fool! Why are you blushing?'_

"Ah, shame then." The human laughed, scribbling in his book. "My Irene could use a fellow such 's yerself. No need t' be so 'mbarrassed." He smiled, lugging out a ridiculously large tin from under the cabinet.

'_I can't help that I'm not used to sincere, direct compliments…'_

"'Ere ya are, sir. Seems yer master had got quite a tongue fer this stuff, eh?"

"He a taste for genuine product and a stomach for an aide, and I an eye for fine wares when I see them." He replied, awkwardly more formal than necessary. The keep chuckled and accepted the small purse of money, waving him off as the butler exited with a tinkle of bells.

"My regards, then!" he called merrily, leaving Sebastian unusually flattered and with the resolve to set the man up for a Royal Warrant.

"Young master?" he called, fixating on the slender form of his master, who was staring with dogged intent across the way. "Do you see something interesting?" The earl's eye darted back across the road, and Sebastian lost his gaze in the maze of buggies and women in their weekend best.

"Nothing important." Ciel replied a bit distantly. "I believe I was just recognized by a civilian."

"Of course." Came the automatic reply. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, not dumb to the odd tones in his master's voice. Something out of place had lingered there, making his instincts prickle uneasily, yet there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen… "Well, we still have just less than two hours to kill before our carriage returns. Any requests?" he posed, shifting the obnoxiously large container of tea out of his vision.

"None in particular." The other shrugged, resuming a more casual composure. "I would enjoy a bag of roasted chestnuts, however." He corrected, staring down the road at a vendor with glossy eyes. Sebastian fought the urge to scowl.

"Ill one moment and hungry the next." He sighed, dropping his voice. "And about as fickle as a woman, too."

"You can be replaced." The young lord retorted, glaring up at his servant. The threat had the adverse affect, a proud smirk coming to his butler's lips.

"With all due respect, I highly doubt that, young master."

* * *

La maison de Brun was far from as plain as the humble name suggested. It sat squarely between a boulangerie and an apothecary upon the avenue de Friedland, unassuming and refined on its exterior. It had, as most Parisian mansions were wont to have, crème colored walls festooned with elaborate scrolls and cherub gargoyles bearing shields; wrought iron balconies embossed with gold leafing and teeming with boughs of creeping pastel flowers.

But inside, a part from the bustling streets and whirring life of the Place Charles de Gaulle, was another existence paraded around in gaudy swathes of pink. She sat cloistered up upon the third floor, sprawled gracelessly over an ornate divan, loose curls splayed out like a halo. Oriental rugs chorused about her in vivid swatches of reds and golds, contrasting garishly with the swags of mint green which dressed the windows. A maid sat within the window seat, mending a skirt with flickering fingers, all but fading away into the wallpaper were she not illuminated by the light from the window. A dusty copy of _The Swing_ sat in its gilded frame above the mantle, bordered by ivory tapers whose wicks were burned down at asymmetric angles.

The lounging woman sighed, admiring the face of a porcelain doll with equally fragile looking fingers, tracing over the lips and brushing through the hair. It was an unfinished piece, only half painted, but he was, in her opinion, her finest piece yet, and soon he too would become another pair of frozen eyes to fill the glass case lined walls. An ornate black card lay beside her on a marble table, detailing the mournful tidings of M. Crémieux, but her fingertips brushed passed it in favor of the open tin of apple flavored aniseed candies.

"Une pitié, non?" she announced, startling her maid into alertness.

"Pitié?" the mousy woman echoed.

"Oui, qu'il n'a pas l'amour moi." The younger pouted, pale cheeks growing rosy. "Mais," she said with a dramatic sigh, pressing the doll to her chest. "Maintenant, il ne me quittera, non?"

The maid started and set back to her sewing, unnerved at the thought that the only pair of living eyes in the entire room of hundreds were the grey ones from the couch. "Pitié, oui." She nodded frailly.

There was a pause where both women immersed themselves in their own thoughts, once again punctuated by the younger's outburst. "Il tint a une porte pour moi, une fois. Lors d'une fête." She added in earnest. "Qui était quand j'ai su que je l'aimais. Il était parfait."

A dozen more lovers stared wordlessly back.

The maid jumped again as the telephone rang shrill throughout the whimsical apartment, fumbling with her work to answer it as her mistress let out an excited exclamation of, "Téléphone pour moi!"

"A-Allô?" she stuttered, gripping the receiver. "Cette la maison de Brun."

A voice replied on the other side of the line, and the mistress of the manor leaned in intently to catch a trace of it. The maid blinked, taken aback by the caller's words.

"A-Ah! Qui est à l'appareil?"

The caller's tone grew more confidant, and the young mistress squealed in delight, springing from her throne and all but throwing the fragile doll away from herself. She seized the receiver in her fit of joy, casting the maid off much like a doll and ignoring the pained scream that resulted.

"Leona, my sweetness!" the brunette cooed in liltingly-accented English. "La, I haven't heard from you in _ages_!"

"Cosette Brun, how are you?" the caller purred back, voice feminine and honeyed. The young mistress giggled, nonchalantly wrenching away the pesky foreign hand that still held on to the receiver.

"Oooh, I could ask you the same thing, Leona! How long has it been? Twenty-three years?" she sighed pleasantly, finally extracting the stray appendage.

"Dearest, the last thing I want is to offend you;" Leona frowned through the phone, "But I believe you just killed your servant in a fit of joy."

"Oh?" the brunette blinked, suddenly letting go of the mangled hand as the maid's fresh corpse crumpled to a broken heap on the rug, head lolling insignificantly to the side. The porcelain dolls around her looked upon her with equally owlish apathy as their mistress. The woman giggled to herself as she turned back to her conversation, toying with a stray curl and flipping the rest carelessly over her shoulder. "Oooh, la! You know how I get when I hear from you, Leona." She dismissed girlishly. "Now! What have you been up to?"

"Just the usual." Came the casual reply, as if the woman on the other line had become suddenly disinterested. "But I have a small problem that I may need your help with, Cosette."

"Oh?" the young mistress cooed, head cocked curiously.

"Yes, it specifically requires your… _expertise_." The blonde intoned, voice dropping. Cosette quieted, eyes flitting across the fanciful room to her first two dolls ever made: a handsome black haired male and a petite ginger female with obtuse triangles extended from her head, a white-tipped pelt protruding from the back of her dress. Cosette withdrew her gaze, skimming determinedly past the out-of-place ladder that accessed the attic above her. Forcing her thoughts back around, she uttered a low hum, weighing the odds.

"Well, it depends if he stayed by her side or not." She explained, twirling her hair a bit more roughly than necessary. "If the male is out of the picture, then it's a simple procedure; but I take it he's stuck around if you've called from all the way out there." She pouted with a sigh. Oh, how she hated instigating such work.

There was an ironically pregnant pause before Leona continued, tone laced with gossipy glee. "Oh no." she corrected. "It's not a she."

Cosette sat back on her heels, frowning in confusion before the thoughts all clicked together. Instantly, she erupted in a pitchy peal of shrieks, throwing an arm about her sides ungracefully as she laughed. "A man?" she cried. "A _man_!"

"What's more is that he's a fairly well-to-do Earl." The other woman explained around Cosette's gasping laughter. "One of the queen's watchdogs, I believe."

"_Ohhhh, la_!" she exhaled heavily, sides still aching with raw amusement, a deranged smile plastered across her innocently painted lips. "Oh, Leona. I haven't heard anything this juicy in at _least_ three hundred years." She tittered, fruitlessly trying to recount the events of their kind on her fingers.

"I haven't even gotten to the best part." The distant blonde whispered secretively. "Our incubus in question," There was a dramatic pause as Cosette held the receiver closer, as if its mere presence would explain all. "_Belongs to the earl._"

The brunette reeled back in surprise, mouth forming a perfect little 'o'. "_Belongs_?" she gaped excitedly, a hand cupping her cheek and smearing it ever so slightly with scarlet. "By contract, you mean?"

"By contract." The other replied matter-of-factly. "I could smell it from all the way across the street – along with the _sickly_ sweet smell, of course."

The younger woman wrinkled her nose in mock disapproval. "I can see why you called me up, then!" she said with a small tut. "Oh dear, I have a feeling this will prove to be quite a mess." Her face crumpled at the thought as she strode over to her coffee table, setting about for her fountain pen and day planner, written in the various hands of short-lived maids.

"When do you think you and your feathered friend will be able to come to town?" Leona asked, almost on que. Cosette gave a resigned sigh, keeping her eyes from floating up towards the ceiling by burying them in the scribbled whirl of dates.

"Vendredi… non, cinq… no, today is the eighth… août, September, ah, here we are, octobre, samedi le huitième de octobre, year of Our Lord –" she paused with a breathy giggle. "— 1892, alors…" she trailed off, running a finger down the ledger of dates before tapping upon the seventeenth with finality. "Well, if you'd like me to bring _him_ along…" she sighed theatrically, ticking off dates once more. "I'd say Monday, at latest."

"Knowing you, it will be Tuesday." The other replied flatly.

"Oh, poo! I'll be there when I'll be there, Leona!" the brunette scoffed, painted face creasing into a pout. "And you're very welcome, by the way!"

"Of course, of course." Leona replied in an eerily dismissive way. "I'll make sure to have the most comfortable arrangements for you two." She supplied, voice inflated and honey-sweet once more.

"Be sure to get plenty of those bath salts I like!" Cosette ordered shrilly, impervious to the charms of words. "You'll give them the usual message, then?"

"I'll be sure to do both." The woman replied patronizingly sweet. "Goodbye, darling. I'll see you on Tuesday."

"_Monday_!" the brunette squawked as the line cut out, leaving her alone in the rocaille house with naught but still dolls and a corpse.

* * *

The parlour room was musky, lit only by the dwindling firelight from the brick mantle. The silhouettes of the two human occupants stretched out in slants against the carpeting, as the third form remained still.

"Gone." Ciel repeated flatly, knuckles white. "Completely gone overnight? And _just_ this building?" He bubbled irately with the aroma of boiling strawberries, inciting the lurking demon against his better judgment. It was not so unlike the heady scent of the young lord's arousal, causing the blood in the demon's veins to pound much harder than it had any business pulsing. Claret eyes raked over the elegant – if not sulking – form, wishing dearly that the other occupant would vanish on the spot. But Fred Aberline was just as obnoxious as he was determined, and that, apparently, applied to both the man's conscious and unconscious actions.

The young policeman was nodding with false bravado, hands betraying his true feelings as the tea cup trembled to his lips. "If you keep reading, you'll find that there was minimal damage done to the surrounding buildings; the fire department was able to contain the fire by the time they arrived. We have solid evidence that it was arson."

"No doubt." The earl bit back, sinking with frustration into his armchair. The scent piqued as he shot a frustrated look across the tea table. "How many were killed?"

The brunet paused in thought. "Since it was the night shift, there were only seven confirmed dead." He recalled, brushing back his hair with a gloved hand. "Two security guards as well as several workers doing overtime—." He cut off with a wince. "But those are only the bodies we've recovered thus far." Aberline amended, thumbing the handle of his cup uncomfortably.

"Sebastian." The earl commanded decidedly. The demon peeled himself away from his unassuming corner and crowded to his master's side, ignoring completely the stunned look of the young policeman's face at his sudden apparition. He bowed faithfully and accepted the folder he had calculated would come. "Track down the employee files of these people and send their families my personal condolences."

"Right away, young master." The butler hummed, fleeting down the hallway the second the doors swung to and slipping inside his personal study. His blood seemed on fire, pricking at him and urging him to return back to his master's side as soon as possible. Just to see him, to _know_ that he was unharmed. To physically stand as a barrier between any leering eyes or lewd behaviors and… no, not so much what was 'his' as it was what was increasingly sacred to him. His fingers twitched over the spines of ledgers new and old; some in the stick-like lettering of Tanaka's hand, others in the flowing cursive of his own.

It wasn't as though the jumpy Yard worker could ever pose a threat to him, nonetheless his mate, he consoled himself as he removed a tome from the shelf. He spread it open and quickly jotted down the prior addresses of the departed. It was just the sheer notion of another man being _alone_ with his master that made his skin crawl unpleasantly. That, and the faintest feeling that he was missing out on crucial information that his lord simply wouldn't – or, for that matter, couldn't – comprehend due to his ignorance. He allowed himself a disgruntled groan before returning the ledger to its place between a catalogue and bookend. Engrossed in his thoughts, he scrawled out the letters as quickly as he could, distantly thankful for the irritatingly long training sessions the previous house steward had given him when he had first joined the Phantomhive Estate.

"Back when I was a delinquent." He mused to himself, cleaning the nib of his pen before folding the papers into envelopes and sealing and pressing them with iconic wax. "Funny how long ago that seems…" he frowned, his instincts growling at him to return to his mate's side. He caved with a sigh, collecting himself neatly outside the door, a hand levitating just above the brassy knob. But something held him back. Something faint and delicate, yet chillingly… wrong. His brows knitted together as he wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint the precise scent. It was definitely foreign, yet at the same moment hauntingly familiar. The voices beyond the door played on unknowingly in a muffled strain that was all too clear for Sebastian and his finer senses.

"—it could be a number of people. A business rival, an old 'family friend'." There was a bitter pause in that statement, before the earl continued, more contemplative. "One of which I'll be having a discussion with in the near future. You took the bodies to the usual place?"

Sebastian's nose wrinkled in distaste, knowing precisely where he would be finding himself by the end of the week. He hated the stench of decaying flesh and embalming fluid above sickness and death itself. It was chemically overwhelming and made even his own strong stomach twist and knot unpleasantly. It was almost logical to him why Undertaker would request jokes for payments in such a horrid place.

Ciel was finishing up his thanks as Aberline replied in fractured sentences. "Things were busy—we were attempting to keep the arson under wraps from the press and general public all day, so I apologize for the delay—."

Sebastian scoffed, wondering how on earth one would explain away the absence of an entire _factory_ to so much as a small child.

"No need." Ciel interjected his scornful thoughts. "I would've preferred to investigate personally once I heard this morning—. Yesterday morning. But I have been feeling under the weather as of late."

The demon ignored the frantic apologies of the policeman as twin spirals of satisfaction and guilt curled in his gut. 'Under the weather' wouldn't even begin to cover it in a few months' span. He halted his thoughts abruptly before he could worry too heavily on the future implications laying in wait just down the road.

"I assume you can show yourself out?" the earl instructed. "My only reliable servant is busy and I fear Maylene will run into a wall if she attempts to do so." The butler smirked pridefully at the opaque compliment.

"Erm. Of course." The other man agreed awkwardly, heading for the opposing set of double doors and blundering obviously down the proceeding hallway. Sebastian shook his head ruefully, the feeling of elation stealing over him as he reentered the room, _alone_ this time with his master.

"You should be getting to bed, my lord." He advised, dimly aware how clearly inhuman he must appear as he readjusted to the light, slitted irises aching as they resized themselves. He could sense the earl's eyes upon him, and the uncertainty of what they beheld unsettled him. The gaze eased into a sleepy haze. "However, these need to be signed before I seal them, master." The demon prodded gently.

"I'll attend to it in the morning." Ciel dismissed through a yawn, straightening his spine and eliciting a series of pops from his neck as his muscles relaxed. "If I don't get to sleep now, I'll never be able to wake up in the morning."

"You slept nearly 'till ten this morning, my lord." Sebastian cocked a brow. _'Unless you consider that the norm, now?'_ He shadowed the earl quietly for a period as the younger male proceeded up the flight of stairs towards his bed chamber. It was a set and determined march, but Sebastian could detect the leaden way in which they trod towards the room. Perhaps he was pressing himself too hard for his condition? "I'm truly beginning to fear for your health." The demon frowned.

"Liar." The earl scoffed, entirely missing the rare, genuine look of hurt that crossed his servant's face. An icy grip seized the demon as he was plunged back into the sinking sense of reality: no matter their blood differences, he was no more than a pawn, and he had been used. It was his duty, and he should expect like treatment and mate or no, the young earl was completely ignorant of their bond and perhaps, for their own well being, it was better that way. Distinctly separate in their own distinctly set worlds. His chest clenched at the thought as he held open the door to the private sitting room for his master.

"It will be cold tonight, my lord, so I have prepared your bed with an extra down comforter." He informed him as they proceeded into the toasty room, kept warm by the miniature hearth that crackled dimly with life. It heated the earl's skin, rousing it to a healthier pink as he stared longingly at the bed with a fixated, albeit manic, look.

"You have no idea how comfortable that bed looks to me." He sighed throatily, drawing a chuckle from the demon as his fingers traced sensually over the quickly vanishing clothes, ghosting a bit lustfully where they oughtn't to.

"Oh, I can imagine." He grinned huskily, thoughts recapitulating themselves back to the scent of heated strawberries, both from that evening and from when… A dark smirk overtook him as he reveled in his _own_ scent clinging to the sheets, holding steady even after several washings. There was a small glint of satisfaction in knowing that scent encased his master each morning and night, protectively. Possessively.

He turned back into the room, nightshirt folded over one arm. "So would my lord like to—?" He froze in surprise as a mostly-naked Ciel slunk under the covers he recently exalted. "May I ask what in the world you're doing?" he queried, cocking his head in catlike confusion.

"Sleeping." Ciel replied shortly, sidling beneath the thick comforters. The butler stared after him a moment before sighing in derision, damning the antics annoying even as the vaguest part of him deemed it 'cute'.

"My lord, your nightshirt." He pressed, peeling away the covers that had become fixed to the spot. Ciel glared up at him with one ineffective, dozy eye as his servant leaned over him to gently remove the patch and tuck him into his garment, fingers ghosting almost tenderly across his slight frame. Denying the demon further access, he wriggled back into the warmth of the blankets with a slight mewl of distress before settling in an ominous lump beneath their bulk, apparently content.

Sebastian backed away, a foreign feeling of fondness settling over him at the spectacle. "You've been acting quite bizarre of late." He said more to himself than anything as he straightened up the room. A distant warm buzz of gratitude and comfort washed over him, warming his usually apathetic eyes to a kindling ruby. "Though that's to be expected, hnn?" he uttered softly, words lost upon the sleeping earl.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Hello again everyone! Cheshire here with another update- I was up until five in the morning at Moosey's appartment writing this one, eheheh. Just wanted to let you know that I tried really hard to make the French correct. I only have one semester under my belt, so its quite difficult as you would imagine. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this one!


	3. Ornithoptera Victoriae

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter Three**

**Ornithoptera Victoriae**

_"How does a heart love_

_If no one has noticed its presence?_

_And where does it go?_

_Trembling hands_

_Play my heart like a drum_

_But the beat's gotten lost in the show__."_

Panic! At the Disco (Nearly Witches)

The halls of the Phantomhive manor slumbered, encased in the velvety embraces of drawn curtains. Sebastian slipped from his master's bedchambers, entering the main part of the estate to begin his nightly rounds. The images of his mate curled up, catlike, beneath the sheets continued to circle his mind. It was wrong, that much was certain. The lord was supposed to be dignified with natural behaviors. For a human. Despite himself, a smirk curled over the demon's lips. No matter how hard he tried to feign normalcy, no matter what excuses he made, Ciel Phantomhive would not – and, almost more importantly _could_ not – escape the scant demon blood that was slowly blossoming to life inside of him.

"It seems I've marked you thrice, my lord." Sebastian spoke aloud to no one in particular. The portraits lining the halls seemed to give him judgmental looks. He drew short before one, slightly humbled under the gaze of the austere figure. It was beautifully crafted, cheeks of the now-deceased man brushed rosy with the trace of livelihood, dark hair wispy at all the natural places, yet still sleek and drawn in elegant sheets.

"I wish I could have known you, sir." The demon said quietly. His eyes flitted upwards to lock with the oil black eyes of the portrait, almost expecting them to blink. They did not. "I think we may have even gotten along… although… perhaps now not so much?" The demon dropped his gaze and something within him wavered and threatened to burst. He choked it back, allowing only the faintest traces of guilt, concern, and other emotions he dared not label creep forward. "I am not sure what it is like for humans, once they pass." He continued, compelled. "I believe that only the reapers truly know that. All the same I suspect that you are aware of what transpires here, wherever you may be."

The relaxed grip on the rifle never wavered, Sebastian noted. Not that an oil painting had the capacity, he added to himself. "I wonder what it is that you think of me? What you've ever thought of me?" He released a cut-off laugh, resuming eye contact with the man framed in gold. "It's humorous, really. I've never been one to be so openly self-conscious. I suppose your opinion would be one of the first to truly matter." The man's expression was not unkind so the demon awkwardly continued.

"I do care, sir. For him. About… about his well-being. It's not just because of this predicament, though I won't deny that that has perpetuated these feelings a bit. It's not that often that even I feel so… lost. It's been more common these days, I fear. I don't know what it is that I am doing, not when it comes to him. I understand the source, the mechanics, what I ought and ought not to be doing– " He swallowed and his throat felt unusually tight. "Moreover… I do not understand why his very words and actions affect me so. …_Hurt_ me so… Would you warrant this behavior, I wonder? Were you a man to take sides? Certainly you'd have every right to take his, and yet I wonder if you wouldn't be so inclined as to lend me your sympathies? For I am doing the best that I can and surely even you can see that?"

But Vincent Phantomhive remained silent, for there was not a place where the desperate words of the demon – now butler – could reach him. Sebastian lowered his head in shame, padding slowly away from the visage of the person he felt would know best. "One way or 'nother, my lord, it seems as though an absent father is something we both share."

It wasn't as though he had expected the painting to talk, he told himself as he mounted a set of stairs. Not in actuality, at least. But whatever enlightenment, understanding, or relief he had sought had not come. It was foolish anyway, he admonished, seeking such things from anyone, no less an inanimate object. What mattered was what he could physically do or control – enough years on his own had taught him that much. What Sebastian _could_ do was to protect his mate who slumbered blissfully unaware several flights upwards.

Sebastian willed the essence of the young lord to fill him, a little more distant than usual due to their physical distance. There, as always, was the enjoyable aroma of fresh strawberries, spiked with the strange sweetness of conception. He sensed the warmth brought to his master by the den of blankets he had burrowed into, the gentle press of linen and the butler's own wild raspberry mingling with the scents of his sleeping form. It was as if the young Phantomhive had erupted into a berry-centric bakery in the span of a few days.

Sebastian temporarily amused himself with such images. It was undeniably self-indulgent, imaging himself beside a much more demon-like Ciel, running their own bakery where no one could possibly bother them and their happiness. Provided that they could have such things together – doubtful. As equally doubtful in fact as the possibility that the lord would have any sort of idea what went _into_ a pie or pastry nonetheless how to go about assembling one. Then again, the thought of _teaching_ the young Phantomhive how to bake _privately_ was very much alluring no matter how unrealistic…

The demon tensed, breaking himself of his daydreams and focusing yet again on the scents surrounding his mate. Had he not just said that what mattered most was, in fact, reality? Something pricked at the nape of his neck and not-so-foreign emotions curdled in his veins, growing increasingly more vivid as his mate undoubtedly drew into consciousness. Discomfort, then a sort of generic fear, the breathlessness of anxiety stealing over one's mind. Sebastian released a low growl, banishing like phenomenons from taking control of his own body. There was something else, something _more_ than just some childish night terror. Instinctually he knew that his master's own latent awareness was detecting _something_, reacting to _it_.

His feet were moving of their own accord, noiselessly sprinting up staircases and through vacant doorways. What was it? What was causing his master – no, his _mate_ – such fear? He scented the air, eyes continuously carding darkened room after darkened halls. There was nothing to be seen, no presence nor aura he could even feel.

With practiced habit he slipped his pocket watch into his palm, observing the face. Thin silver hands indicated to 2:00:03. As he had thought, this was no human intruder. His thoughts wound back to the drawing room from several hours prior. Just as he had poised over the door handle, an inkling of a foreign aroma had caught his attention.

A clammy chill swept him as he proceeded, the faintest wisps of scent entering his consciousness. A bird? He frowned, catlike senses already surging forward, driven by the need to see to his mate's protection. Yet the scent seemed… large. And, in some horrifying way, _empty_.

Sebastian in all his years had never encountered such a disturbing presence, not even during the days he wandered through darkened, hostile forests as a child. Helpless in his assessment, he felt very much like he had stepped into a page of that past. Now only the trees were replaced by grandfather clocks, shrubs and bushes by tables and armchairs.

But another sensation consumed him, rooting him to the spot in momentary alarm. Pain. Intense, fiery pain, latching unexpectedly to the nape of the young lord's neck, severe enough to disorient the butler several metres away. Then he was off, tearing down the remaining hallway with inhuman speed, suddenly appearing within the young Phantomhive's bedchambers, unseeing in his fury as he launched himself at the grotesque creature within.

He felt with feral satisfaction his claws sink into the flesh of the bird, reveling with macabre pleasure as blood bubbled forth, staining his hands. The thing twisted, cuffing him in the head with a curled wing, trying to shake him off its front. Sebastian snarled, wrenching the mangled flesh forward, catapulting them both through a maze of spinning chandeliers, chair legs, and portraits. His back met harshly with the edge of a doorframe, drawing forth a harsh crack as bone crushed. Infuriated, the demon lunged forward, clawing with bloodstained hands for the thing's eyes, somehow darting just out of his own vision.

In seconds, his spine had mended himself and he used the brief advantage to spring off of the ornamented carpet, dragging the avian with him. Talons lashed out at him, making to rip and maim, and with slightly greater speeds he avoided their reach, fighting animalistically for purchase: the eyes, the windpipe, the jugular, the heart, but the snap of a razor sharp beak and the slickness of the feathers parried his every blow. Growling throatily he leapt at the beasts neck, impaling the thick mass of plumage with long-since grown fangs.

He gagged, the taste of oil and rot and decay filling up his mouth and invading his nose. He whimpered against the barrage of unpleasantries, screwing his eyes closed as he bit deeper and deeper, vainly angling for something soft and yielding with which to rip the life from the creature hell bent on breaking his every bone. Again his spine bent unnaturally against a harsh object – the demon faintly recognized it as a banister – before recoiling into himself, tightening the muscles in his legs until–

The creature shrieked, like a long, whistling inhale of breath as a powerful kick toppled it, wings flapping mightily as it drug the demon attached to it rolling down the grand entryway, tumbling and capitulating over each other in a mass of bloody feathers and growls until they crashed bodily into a grandfather clock, upsetting it and spilling jagged shards of glass about them. Sebastian skid across the floor, disengaged from the avian in their scuffle, eyes trained on the misshapen figure trying to right itself across the foyer.

The bird was squawking in short gasps, scrabbling as its taloned feet fought to gain purchase over the pieces of glass beneath it. The demon poised himself, scenting the fear of his prey before lunging again, slamming the bird against the opposing wall, throwing his weight forwards again and again, trying to pin or maim the wide flailing wings – whichever came first. The bird flapped forwards, buffeting Sebastian's attempts, pressing the snarling cat against the stairwell. Again, he bunched, coiling his muscles tight before kicking forcefully at the creature's midsection, propelling it up and over him, crashing with the certain splintering of wood as it barreled straight through the railing. Sebastian only had seconds to flip himself up and onto the staircase before it spiraled back down to attack him, talons extended.

Without time to react, the demon jumped up to meet his attacker, punching a clawed hand forward to bury into its ruffled chest. Contact. Then his fingers sank further in squelching warm depths, jolting in surprise as they felt the slippery heat of bare muscle and organ and – and the creature was howling in pain and dismay, an overwhelming tortured scream that warped into whistles and wails and crashed about in the demon's head in a magnified cacophony of _pain_ and then he was falling, scrapping into a hunched stand and clutching at his head as all of his acute senses swam and recoiled from the abrasive _being_ of the bird. There was an offbeat flapping of oversized wings, and the dark creature disappeared altogether, leaving Sebastian growling and disoriented.

'_That thing tried to hurt my mate.'_ He internally spat, stripping his crimson gloves off and exchanging them for a clean pair. It was the first thing he had actually thought since the thing's arrival. And then, simply, _'Ciel.'_

Sebastian bound back up along the splintered stairwell, past upended sofas and rumpled carpets, not stopping until his hand clasped over a single golden knob and he spilled into a very familiar bedchamber, looking more disheveled then he had allowed himself being in quite a long while. Oily green-black feathers still hung in the air, lazily drifting down to rest upon his master's possessions.

He set the candlestick he had collected from his master's sitting room down upon the wash table, its light flickering over the young lord's all-too-pale features. The butler shed his blazer, vainly hoping to distance himself from the oily rank of the creature. Again, he checked his pocket watch. 2:00:12. Precisely nine seconds since he had last checked it. He could have done better.

"I apologize for my appearance, my lord." He began, a thrumming growl edging into his tone as he swept across the chamber. "I would've cleaned myself off if I weren't so concerned for your well-being." He shivered as the young lord's flesh met his cupped palms, filling them with meager warmth as the scent of the scared and confused Phantomhive assailed him. He was safe. Alarmed, but safe. Earnestly, the butler tilted the younger's head, determinedly looking for the smallest scratch or bruise. "Did it harm you, young mas– ."

A shaky hand slapped across his cheek, the cool prongs of the Phantomhive ring digging a shallow gash beneath an already tender cut. Had the bird landed a blow?

"_Don't touch me so easily!_" the other barked, recoiling instantly.

Sebastian faltered, watching as his mate curled up, shuttering as waves of fear rolled off of his person. A low keening sound escaped his throat, but he knew the lord had not heard him, wrapped up in his own terrified thoughts.

'_If only I could touch you, my lord. To caress that fear away.'_

Instead he brought the fingers that ached to console to his own face, dabbing at the fresh cut. Indeed, its twin was there above it, and the demon could tell that the cut was deep. Within an hour or so the wound would vanish, he knew, yet the mere presence of the flaw irked him. The bird must have scored his face with a talon; in the bloodlust that had ensnared him, he hadn't even noticed when the cut was initially made. The concept made his insides writhe. He knew it wasn't boastful to say that he was strong, or deadly. Yet to think that this creature had not only provoked his senses but had actually left a mark as reminder?

His eyes snapped back to the disturbed boy in the bed, fighting down the urge to snarl. That thing – whatever it was – was undoubtedly after his mate. Potentially wished harm upon him or even… but no, the expanse of nightshirt beneath the lord's heaving ribs was undisturbed. Surely it couldn't have known about _that_. It wasn't exactly what one would consider to be a common ailment of the male population. Still, the demon's blood boiled, torn between the intense desires to eliminate the strange attacker and to lathe comfort over his quaking mate. But if such actions could either not be met or only be rejected…

With a sinking feeling, he dropped to one knee, hoping to offer the comfort of boundaries to the young lord who had already encountered far too much in his short life. "My deepest apologies, young master. It was out of line for me." He intoned, staring submissively at the carpet. I really was such a _lovely_ shade of blue. Quite lovely, in fact. Lovely enough to be distracting from the fact that the earl still had yet to calm completely and was bound to ask questions that the demon rather not answer. Except of course that having cognizance of such fact really beat the purpose of creating a distraction for oneself.

"Did you kill it?"

There it was. Sebastian licked his lips nervously. It wasn't something he liked to admit to his own private mind, nonetheless openly answer. No matter how he thought of phrasing it, 'no' still sounded and tasted like 'failure'. There was really no graceful way to pretty up the words.

"Well?" the earl spat, and this time the butler could feel the eyes that were suddenly fixated at his back.

"No, my lord." The demon replied. "I only have an idea as to what it was, and it escaped before I was able to properly dispose of it." In his mind's eye he flashed back to the sensation of his fingers sinking deeper and deeper into the open chest cavity, his stomach churning with shame and disgust. He had an inkling of what the bird might have been, but it did not change the fact that he had ultimately failed in protecting his mate. "Its kind is known as masters of speed and stealth– ."

"I want it dead _now_." Ciel spat, fingers twisting up in his blankets. Sebastian winced as the smell of fear rebounded: his master had been depending on him and he knew it.

"My deepest apologies." He echoed softly, easing himself back into standing. "At this point in time, that is something that is impossible."

"THEN FIX IT!" the young Phantomhive shrieked, white knuckled and trembling. "Do whatever you can! Your orders are now to keep me safe from that _thing_, no matter _what_ the cost – _is that understood_?"

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian replied, giving a habitual bow before turning in to the rest of the room. "Let me begin the preparations. You should try and get some rest while I do so." Almost immediately came the feeble sensation of trust, and he allowed himself a small smile, knowing he hadn't entirely failed his lord.

The butler eyed the darkened room, quickly assembling a checklist of items as he tried to evaluate the situation. Their enemy was some sort of bird-like creature, he knew that much. What senses it did or did not possess was an unknown factor, and that alone concerned the butler. The beast's sight was excellent, its skull broad and eyes forward facing (or so Sebastian believed to recall, suddenly realizing he didn't even know what _colour_ they were) meaning that the creature was in fact predatory and had a fairly good sense of depth perception in contrast to the average bird. Hearing, too, would be of no help to the pair, the demon sighed. A bird could hear in increments of 1/200th of a second, and the attacker could do as much. Standard level evasion would be of no use.

'_What else, then?'_ his mind raced. _'What else do we demons rely on?'_

There was taste: the standard bird had only 100 taste buds in comparison to a human's 10,000 (and, Sebastian figured, the uncalculated-but-likely 100,000 of a demon), but such a sense would not help nor hinder them.

'_Unless it decides that the texture of 'Ciel' is unappetizing.'_ He mused wryly.

The circuitry of an avian was identical to that of humans, so it could sense temperature, pain, and pressure similarly.

'_Which means we can't lead it out to die of hypothermia: we can't use the weather against it, except perhaps to ward it off for a brief time.' _Yet something nagged at the back of the demon's mind, roiling into a knot of anxiety. _'Why did it fly off at that moment? I don't feel like I wounded it. I… touched… _something_ within it. But even at that, a cornered animal would have lashed out, not fled. Not when it was so close to harm. Which alludes to the fact that it wasn't acting on its own instincts, rather the whims of another force…'_

He thought back to his master's curious behavior the afternoon prior, when he had emerged from the tea shop with the Phantomhive's manic purchases. He had looked alert, eyes clearly staring at a single point… yet when Sebastian himself had gazed across the street he had found nothing out of the ordinary. Had someone been watching them only moments before? Then there was the phantom scent that lingered outside of the drawing room. The very same scent, he realized, as one of the many from the bustle of Baker Street, one that was near as indistinguishable yet subtly and quite vexingly familiar in composition: a sort of musk that was almost too flowery to be masculine. Whomever or whatever it was, Sebastian concluded, was behind the strange beast's attack.

'_Meaning that what I'm evading isn't necessarily the bird, but it's master. An interesting turn of events to be sure. If it's being sent off, then its abilities must be in some way greater than its owner. Should my lord be moved to another location, then it will be impossible to track where it is we've gone off to: the bird will have been called away, and its master not gifted enough to track. Providing that this isn't some sort of glorified carrion bird, the creature's sense of smell should only be slightly better than that of an average human, certainly not strong enough to find us.' _He shot a brief look at the boy behind him who was still staring off absently in shock. _'It's decided, then.'_

"We'll be moving to the London estate, my lord." Sebastian spoke aloud, drawing a heavy steamer trunk into the center of the room with ease. "With this particular assassin, it's best to be amongst many people in order to throw off its sense of smell– ."

Suddenly there was the violent sound of retching and Sebastian whirled about to find his master slung over the side of his bed, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the carpet that the demon had inwardly praised not so very long ago. "Lovely." He sighed in exasperation. Clearly the earl was far more shaken by the event than he had originally calculated: the oversight displeased him. He raked his eyes over the prone form, the dark hair that was plastered down at odd angles with sweat. He could make out the angry marks of talons on the back of his master's neck; the flesh looked swollen, but not punctured. With practiced ease the butler resumed his packing, appearing and reappearing before the trunk with pile after pile of meticulously folded clothing.

"I'll be sure to call Master Soma and his servant to alert them of our presence right after I clean this up." His tone softened ever so slightly. "Is your neck injured?"

"No," the teen replied shakily. "Just raw."

Not a second too soon, Sebastian detected the pounding of feet and inwardly groaned and the bedroom door flew open with a loud _bang!_

"MASTER!" the trio of discombobulated servants chorused, wide eyed and wielding an assortment of unique 'weapons'. Clearly object permanence was _not_ a subject in which they were handicapped in. Sebastian eyed them warily – first Bard's flamethrower, then the gardener's frying pans, and lastly Maylene's actually practical pistol.

'_Should have hired more ex-snipers.'_

"Where are they?" the American barked, swinging the oversized blowtorch about. "We heard something and got ready to fight as soon as possible."

'_Unless you're up against a monstrous crème br__û__lée, I'd put that ridiculous thing away.'_ The demon thought skeptically.

"Sebastian took care of the problem." Ciel interjected, clearly trying to keep the vexation from his tone. "You can return to bed. We will be leaving for the London estate as soon as possible, so I'm leaving Mister Tanaka in charge."

The wizened Japanese man stepped out of his position against the doorframe, a pleasant smile across his face. "As I expected, young Mister Sebastian is as effective as ever." The demon felt a swell of pride at the statement as the house steward turned to the chef. "See? I told you there was no need to worry. He has everything under control. Now, if you'll excuse me." He sighed, turning from the group and shooting the demon a knowing look before draining the last of his tea. "I'm quite tired." With that he cheerily left the room, leaving the other servants agape and Sebastian feeling like he had received the world's most condensed version of the 'shotgun talk'.

It had been Tanaka, after all, who had trained him in how to run an estate like that Phantomhive's. He had had prior experience in the trade, but moreover it were his social graces that had received the most attention. The old man had never questioned his presence or state of being, merely accepted him as an oddity of the family he served and had done his best to curb the demon's once-feral and course behaviors. The thought of swearing before the man still made the butler wince, remembering the many near-concussions he had earned via the unmerciful Wooden Spoon. Whatever the elderly Japanese knew, he never divulged, but since the days of the young Phantomhive's reestablishment as head of house, it was clear that he had high expectations for the demon. For his part, Sebastian made sure to never disappoint. He wasn't certain what it was like having a father, but he felt that someone he revered as much as Tanaka was a fair enough replacement.

The earl must have dismissed his audience, for the servants were glumly disappearing through the gaping doorway, seemingly unhappy with their sentencing to remain home alone yet again.

"I'm going to be ill again." Ciel whimpered. Sebastian's own stomach lurched. He could feel the count's turbulent emotions, causing as much discomfort as the unsteadiness of his stomach. The demon bit at his tongue in worry, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be subjected to illness as a result of their union. The absolute loss of appetite was hard enough for him as it was. The small earl curled in on himself, the smell of salt betraying the fact that tears had begun to well in the corners of his eyes, slowly trickling down his cheeks.

The demon choked back a whine, overwhelmed with the need to comfort and _nuzzle_. Nuzzle? Now that was something new. Something Sebastian hadn't felt the need to do in quite a while: somehow giving in to the ridiculously feline inclination did _not_ seem like a way to win Ciel's favour. Cautiously he approached the bed as the young lord buried his face behind his knees, feeling of shame and pain bubbling up from his rocking form.

"I hate this. _I hate this_." He hissed like a mantra. "First illness and now this attack – I haven't a clue what is happening to my body or my mind, Sebastian, and things seem to be slipping from my control…"

'_If only I could divulge to you the truth, my lord.' _The demon thought solemnly. _'But even I can hardly believe what it is that you are going through… how will you ever come to forgive me for this particular transgression?'_

His chest tightened painfully, unable to voice his inner turmoil. "It's quite uncharacteristic for you to confide in me like this, young master." He placed a gloved hand to the mattress. "May I?"

Ciel nodded desperately, unseeing and head still tucked up behind his knees like a child seeking shelter. _'Can I at least provide you that?'_ The demon wondered as he slowly mounted the bed, gently moving across it so as not to startle the emotional earl further. He drew up beside the curled form, examining the defensive clutching of his arms, the limply tussled look of dark hair that fell forward, shielding the small human. From there the puffy swatch of skin along the teen's neck contrasted brilliantly with its porcelain canvas. A low whimper issued from the demon's mouth, and this time he didn't bother fighting the reaction.

'_To think that you've been hurt, even to this small extent. I've failed to protect you, just this one brief moment. This heady fear that envelops you like a blanket… I hate it. I hate knowing that I've allowed you to go back to that place… for all the world you are nothing but a child again, aren't you?' _

Thoughtlessly, he inclined his head towards the injury, inhaling the scent buried beneath all of the emotions, the alluring comfort of strawberries. Calming, he lathed his tongue across the mark in a fluid motion, bathing the wound. The earl gasped – his first sign of physical cognizance, Sebastian recognized with relief – but did not move away from the touch. Emboldened, the demon continued, gently smoothing over the area that felt strangely warm on his tongue. The affect must have been soothing for the tenseness in the earl's shoulders eased, surrendering to the affectionate attentions of his butler.

'_I will never make you go back to that place, my lord.' _He silently vowed, watching as the wound disappeared under his ministrations. _'You are no longer that child I rescued from a cage and human greed. I will never let them nor anyone else touch you again. Never let a single soul hurt you. I couldn't bear the thought. You're far too precious to let slip away.'_

Gently he nuzzled the now-flawless neck of his master, willing as much consolation and affection to transcend to the smaller being as possible. His tongue flicked forward again, mapping a trail up to the earl's ear, nuzzling against its shell. "Better?" he whispered, eliciting a shiver from Ciel. The distinct scent of strawberries simmered ever so slightly, and the butler smiled, knowing he had more than soothed his troubled mate.

"Y-yes." The teen shuddered as Sebastian extracted himself, tenderly brushing away the few tears that remained, slipping his fingers beneath the lord's chin in a gentle touch.

"There now. I'll continue the preparations, and you should attempt to rest for the time being."

"O-okay." Ciel whispered, the demon gently pulling him into a small nod. Sebastian gave a small laugh despite himself and slipped from the mattress, dissipating back into the inky stillness of the room.

* * *

The smell of mango lassi and sandalwood barraged Sebastian's senses far before the man attached to them did. The carriage ride had been uneventful and quiet, Ciel having slipped to and from consciousness as his body tried to steal back the hours of sleep that his waking mind had deprived it of. The demon hadn't minded when the young lord had lolled against his side during his sleep, he had merely raised a hand to absentmindedly stroke the sleek head of hair beside him, gazing out on to the landscape as fog peeled away with the onset of morning light. It almost would have been romantic – a clichéd term that Sebastian avoided using like the plague – had it not been for the younger's occasional soft snores and general unconsciousness.

Compared to the social situation the butler was quickly coming in to contact with, he would have greatly preferred the awkwardness of one-sided affections. All too soon the overly excitable man was racing down the front drive, plum-red hair bouncing around like the rest of him.

"Ciel! My little brother! My dearest, most treasured friend!" he cried gleefully, causing the increasingly more caustic Ciel to slouch back against his butler's chest. Sebastian, for the record, took much joy in this fact, willing the antics of the prince to prolong his master's ill temper.

"My lord?" he purred.

"I want to go back." The earl said flatly. "I don't care if I get eaten by that awful bird. It would be much preferable than being subjected to this."

'_Not on your life.'_ He sighed in exasperation, nudging his master out of the carriage with a look that clearly read, 'Why must you constantly agonize me so?' Ciel scowled at him (though perhaps that was just his usual appearance) before forcefully reorganizing his features into a grimace that Sebastian assumed must be a poor excuse for a friendly smile. He figured it must have been great cosmic luck that the earl had been a well-born child, for he certainly would have had hard times pretending to be amicable as a townsperson or, all forbid, a _circus performer_. For all of his numerous talents, there were just some things that the earl failed miserably at, and forced politeness was usually the most apparent.

This horrendous oversight did not seem to dampen the Bengal prince's excitement, however, either because he had learned to accredit the act to being a part of What Was Ciel or because he had come to interpret the disdain and fretting of English folk to be a cultural norm for a warm greeting. Judging by the people he'd met in his time, Sebastian wouldn't be surprised if either were the accurate solution.

"Sebastian, Ciel!" a warm voice called. The foreign butler wore his usual patient smile, following calmly after the excitable prince in a pleasant cloud of spiced chai and almond. For all of the oddities of the duo – including but not limited to their far-too-aromatic dishes and abundance of demon-assaulting spices – Sebastian had always held a certain amount of respect for Agni: he was a humbled soul with whom he could engage in friendly competition and was perhaps above all one of the more sane participants in conversation.

"We were both surprised to have heard from you two after all this time," Agni said pleasantly as the smaller man tore open the front gate's latch. "You rarely visit the estate."

"I've been quite busy as of late." Ciel replied shortly, bracing himself against the impact of jingling prince, arms wrapping around the earl in a tight embrace.

"Ah, Ciel! I've been missing you! You _must_ see the plans for the restaurant Agni and I are planning to open!"

Sebastian considered that Soma, too, was quite lucky to have been born with such prestigious blood because the man clearly lacked self-preservation instincts. As Ciel flailed about against the man's dollops of affections, the demon felt a warning growl surge up in his throat: either it was unnoticed or not as loud as he feared it had been but either way the Indian had _not. yet. removed. his. person. _from what the butler very much considered to be _his_, thank you very much.

"We have an entire menu planned out– ."

That was as far as the Bengal got before Sebastian swiftly pried the man from his mate with his arm as a shield, tucking the smaller close to his side. Not that he was possessive, not at all. Soma looked at the spot where the earl had been, then questioningly up at Sebastian, not quite processing where his beloved friend had disappeared off to. The general look of ignorance about him made the demon almost feel guilty for his harsh actions, but it _would_ – he reminded himself – take a good week to erase the scent of yogurty beverage from his mate.

"I apologize, but I was worried for the young master's health." He amended a bit stiffer than he had intended.

'_Remember that he'll be smelling like another male for a time.'_ His inner demon chided. He felt increasingly less guilty.

"You see, he's been under a great deal of physical stress as of late and I fear you may agitate his condition." He finished smoothly. Soma, however, still seemed stuck on that concept that he was no longer hugging the earl.

"He means that Master Ciel may become ill if you handle him too roughly." Agni supplied, appearing at his own master's side. He smiled benevolently at Ciel and Sebastian both, bowing deeply before addressing them. "If you'd come inside, I have breakfast waiting for you."

If there was one thing that caught his attention, it was food and Soma quickly snapped out of his confusion, face glowing with pride. "Agni made chai tea with milk and a Scottish breakfast food called 'oat-_meal'_!" he announced with the awkward enunciation only a foreigner could give. "It's a lot like the porridge we have back home, but flavoured with brown sugar in place of cumin. I think you'll like it."

"Thank you." Ciel bit out, half resisting Sebastian's insistent hands that were guiding him up to the house. The butler himself stared straight ahead with bitter resolve. It wasn't as if he usually had a problem with the eclectic duo: on the contrary, he generally enjoyed their presence, or at least the effect of normalcy they seemed to have upon Ciel who was, outstanding maturity aside, still very young for the responsibilities he shouldered on a day-to-day business. Had the cause for visit been more pleasant, Sebastian supposed he might have even looked forward to seeing the prince and his companion. But things were far too different in far too many ways.

Fingers still clasped firmly across his mate's shoulder, he steered him into the house, a comfortable difference from the biting nip of October morning air. Sebastian made a quick note of the changing pressure in the morning sky, mindful of the rain that was bound to come. He accepted Ciel's outstretched arms, removing the black cloak from his person and arranging it carefully over his arm, filled with a sense of pride. As sacred as he held his position in the Phantomhive household it was now unmistakable that the beautiful creature beneath his grasp was indeed very much attached to him and would – for better or worse – always inspire a sense of possession in him that he did not appreciate having stepped upon by the unwitting hands of other males. Or females, for that matter, he thought as an aside. No matter how innocent the advances of others may be, he resigned himself to the fact that so long as his master was kept blissfully unaware of the situation at hand, all others were to be seen as a threat to their union.

The earl's thoughts must have turned to similar strands of thought because a dusting of pink had risen on his cheeks and Sebastian could tell from his scent that it had nothing to do with the warmth of the manor. Carefully he extracted his hand, silently wondering if the Phantomhive had begun to notice his apparent clinginess as of late. He thanked whatever good graces had been bestowed upon him that it wasn't a matter that the earl had chosen to bring up: he would much rather enjoy the benefits under the pretenses of concern and worry about the real issues later. Except those issues were going to grow increasingly more apparent and _soon_, and the demon sighed in remorse at the notion, trying to squish it back down into the part of his mind labeled 'Things I'd Rather Not Deal With'.

But Ciel was already apprehensively following the puppy-like Soma into the depths of the house, leaving Sebastian to shed his jacket off in the entry hall. He beat its face, assembling it into a wrinkleless shape, and deposited it neatly upon an elegant coat stand that had at some point in time been topped with a small figure of Ganesh. He imagined that the swooping arms of the design had reminded a certain prince of the elephant deity's trunk, leading to the rechristening of an otherwise perfectly English piece of furniture. Suppressing a snort of amusement, Sebastian turned to find Agni standing a short ways from him smiling in awkward discomfort and knowing pity. The demon frowned at this, turning to the coat rack then back to the fellow butler before slowly coming to the uncomfortable realization that butler or no, he was now considered a guest and would have to do his best to act like one.

Awkwardly he gave a short nod – to which Agni thankfully chose not to make comment upon – and followed after the two lords into what he recalled as being the dining room. It had been quite a while since Sebastian's last visit to the estate, and he was content to note the foreign bits of design that its residents had added to the place. The plush and vibrant rugs were very different from the sorts of orientals that the butler ordered for the main house, strewn with gorgeous strands of glittering gold, plum, ivory, and orange. The colours echoed in the other new additions: intricate golden idols of Shiva and Kali, wooden bowls inlaid with colourful patterns and holding mysterious contents, comfortable looking futons and swaths of sheer fabrics that acted as doors to the occasional room. Even the scent of the home had changed to mirror the colour scheme, the sachets of lavender and arrangements of potpourri long gone in exchange for what Sebastian could only imagine was incense, mixed with the general zest of spices from the numerous dishes cooked within. It was different, to be sure, but not altogether unpleasant to the near-synesthetic senses of the demon.

"You've turned this into quite a lovely and inviting home." He intoned quietly to Agni as he entered the room, who flushed gratefully as he showed him to his seat.

It was one of the more awkward breakfasts Sebastian had shared – largely in part because he was eating in front of others which, as a butler, was something he generally Did Not Do. Agni sent him plenty of apologetic looks as compensation, and he did his best to look vaguely aware of the topics of conversation while fighting the extreme urge to fix the placement of the dessert and salad forks on every place setting in sight. Righting his own to alleviate his somewhat obsessive-compulsive need for tidiness, he instead chose to earnestly pick apart every single taste within his oatmeal. Which entertained him for all of six (approximate) seconds because after oat, water, and brown sugar, there really wasn't much left.

Soma, however, seemed to be having a marvelous time rambling on about… who knew what… while Ciel seemed to be suffering from a like affliction of Pretending Like He Cared. At length something seemed to have crossed his mind because he broke off midsentence with a loud, "Ah, yes!" Both Phantomhive residents straightened in the hopes of interesting discourse. "Agni tells me that the reason you came here was not only for your health, but for a mysterious threat." His features knit into a troubled frown as he hunched over his plate towards the earl. "Rest assured that your best friend will not allow any harm to come to you while you are here, Ciel!"

"Thank you." The earl replied, trailing off ever so slightly as if considering how ignorant his alleged 'best friend' was of the present situation. Sebastian settled for staring pointedly at his master in the vain hopes that it would prevent him from explaining further and thereby putting their hosts in a tailspin of worry.

"You ought to rest while you're here, Ciel." Soma added, gesturing to him with what was definitely an egg spoon before scooping up a glob of oatmeal with it. Sebastian grit his teeth against the near-physical pain of improper utensil usage. "You're always running around so much that you barely have any time to come and visit your best friend – no wonder you've fallen so ill!"

'_Thankfully _you _have nothing to do with said 'illness'.'_

"I suppose." The earl said glumly, staring down at his breakfast with what Sebastian could tell was an empty stomach and a lack of hunger. He looked into his own bowl and managed a polite bite before turning from it with the annoyance that his own appetite was diminishing against his wishes.

"It's settled then!" Soma exclaimed, half-stunned by his friend's lack of response. "When a day comes that Ciel Phantomhive is nearly silent and has yet to make a single facetious comment, it is the day that his best friend will carry him to bed!"

Sebastian was instantly torn between the mental applause of the prince's usage of the word 'facetious' and the extreme displeasure coursing beneath his skin that heartily encouraged him to ensure that the prince would never have the ability to reproduce in this lifetime _or_ the next. To his relief, Ciel had already bolted upright from his chair, grasping the edge of the table in alarm.

"That's perfectly fine, Soma. In fact, I'm feeling much better already. Sebastian?" he said in a rush, sending a desperate look to the butler who was already gathering possessively at his side.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I believe we have someone to visit. Let us go before it gets too late." The teen announced, already turning on heel and exiting as swiftly as possible without looking obviously discourteous.

"But it isn't even ten in the morning!" Soma squawked in confusion. Agni moved in to settle the prince, collecting the barely touched bowls of food as Sebastian sent him a forgiving look.

"And you've hardly touched your breakfast. Wouldn't you like to sit for a while?" he asked, trying to read the look in his fellow butler's eyes. Sebastian could feel concern emanating from him and was inwardly grateful that he didn't find their sudden behavior as insulting to his cooking. Shame he couldn't have eaten more, 'commoner' food or no.

"I apologize for my rudeness, but I simply must get this meeting out of the way." The earl replied firmly, blithely unaware of the other exchanges going on about him as Sebastian helped him change into his customary coat, cane slipping into his gloved grasp. "I wouldn't be able to eat a bite without getting business attended to." He shot his butler a look that managed to be both pleading and commanding. "I believe we should be able to walk. It isn't far from here."

"But Ciel!" Soma protested and the demon quickly mapped out the surrounding area. There was only one location that fit, and it wasn't one he was keenly interested in visiting. However… he looked at the surrounding commotion and its misappropriated silverware. The destination could have been much worse. "You're still ill!" the prince was insisting. "We're both very concerned about you!"

"I'll be fine by the time I return, I'm just very anxious about this meeting." The earl pressed, edging towards the door that his butler was already unlatching. "We'll return in several hours time. Thank you for breakfast."

"You're– !"

But Sebastian was quicker and the door was promptly closed with a resounding _click!_ behind them, allowing the pair to breathe a much needed sigh of relief.

"That was an impressive save, my lord." Sebastian couldn't help but smirk as they began down the drive. An undue feeling of personal accomplishment welled up within him that his mate had in some small way chosen him over the all-too-bubbly prince. The count gave a small grunt of agreement as they turned in unison to see said prince plastered against the windowpane like a small dog begging to be let out. The behavior only caused the Phantomhive more grief and he grumbled at the act, marching a little more steadfast across the pavement. Sebastian stepped forward to unlatch the gate, and they both proceeded forward, bracing against the icy sting of autumn winds that brought with it the tidings of oncoming rain showers, just as the demon had predicted.

"We should have brought an umbrella." The earl commented, pausing to scrutinize the ominous loom of pregnant clouds. "It's bound to rain soon– ."

With much personal satisfaction Sebastian halted the younger's words with the quiet click of a black Funtom umbrella as it blossomed out into shape over the Phantomhive's head.

"One hell of a butler?" Ciel smirked in wry amazement.

"One hell of a butler." Sebastian nodded, mirroring the other's smile.

The two walked on in relaxed silence, turning at the end of the way and meandering leisurely through the wide expanses of fellow estates until the houses diminished in size and grew closer and closer together. The twittering of birds and the hush of grass fell away as the chatter and bustle of the streets of London overtook their surroundings, trees being replaced by towering buildings, the smell of their wood infused with the filth of urban living and the heady cling of tobacco and perfumes. Despite the impending weather, people hurried about in close knit groups as humans were wont to do, never seeing others as they scurried about their daily lives, running doggedly ahead from one task to the next.

Sebastian pressed closer to his master's side as the streets became jagged and spindly, shops crowding one another for space, window fronts growing increasingly concealed by curtain after velvet curtain. Here the strains of nature trickled back to the demon's refined senses. The bite of metal and sting of coal faded to the natural crackle and wafting smoke of fireplaces, carrying with them the soothing aromas of peppermint, thyme, rosemary, and basil. The shaggy headed women who crooned at them with misaligned teeth, too, were much more natural to the demon, their scents obscured by overpowering perfumes that all too often clashed horrendously with a woman's body chemistry. The human population frowned on the oddities of the leery eyed women surrounding them, writing them off as witches, gypsies, and cutpurses. Despite their aesthetic misfortunes, Sebastian wondered what it was that they did to earn their keep and how exactly there seemed to be a never ending supply of them within one of the largest cities of the era.

The alley curved, admitting a shadowy shop front littered with carefully arranged displays of caskets and urns, the quality of their composition belying the true value of the otherwise ramshackle building. The grey and black paint was blistered and peeling, the wood in some areas completely worn away, and yet the faded and elegantly painted sign which read _Undertaker_ suggested that the establishment had once held a look of splendor that had long since been neglected. It was here that the two paused, the earl releasing a small sigh before turning to his companion.

"Do you have a joke prepared?"

"As always." Sebastian assured him, swiftly wrapping the dry umbrella up and folding it behind his lapels. He shot the begrudging Ciel a smile. "Shall we?"

The earl nodded his consent as his butler moved forward to hold open the door for him, the harsh scents of arsenic salt and the alcohol-laden cocktails of ethanol and formaldehyde hitting the demon like a brick wall. He bit back the urge to vomit, overpowered by the astringent chemicals that were mixing in his consciousness with that of disinfectant and the lingering ashy note of remains. The door swung shut behind them, ringing out what sounded curiously to be a sleigh bell, beckoning to the keep to come forward. Ciel took a bold step forward and turned back sharply into his butler's side, gagging into the fabric of his clothing as a much more minuter wave of scent hit him. Sebastian hummed in surprise, folding himself ever so slightly around the smaller form, searching for a hint of the Undertaker himself.

Around them were an area of both caskets and coffins, some ajar and others not. He gave particular attention to the later sort, half anticipating the eccentric keep to pop out of one at any given moment. To his great relief the familiar voice called out, clearly from a back room whose contents the demon chose not to ponder.

"A cock linnet, if you'd please!" the accented voice said, lilting in its usual mysterious way. Sebastian gave a slight smile at its sound, recognizing it as belonging to one of the few men who were more displaced in human society than himself. Whether the owner of it was it eccentric or no was really no matter: there was a sort of camaraderie in feeling oneself to be ostracized. The earl merely scoffed, turning further into the butler's front, fingers embedding themselves in the fabric of his coat.

"We don't have all day, you cockney bastard." The earl snarled, trying his best to appear commanding whilst still clinging to Sebastian like a disoriented child. The embalmer traipsed into the room, shaking his head in amusement and sending his great sheets of white hair swishing about.

"Hmmm, you're more impatient than usual, young earl." He said, toweling off his hands with what was quite possibly the dirtiest rag the demon had ever seen. "Did something– ." With that he lurched to a violent stop, examining the unusually clingy Phantomhive with curious intent before his lips twisted into a large grin that split his features as he released a howl of laughter. He released the rag in his fit, falling over on top of his counter as his odd giggles racked his ribs and pealed about in the unusual little shop. Butler and lord exchanged one-sided glances, Sebastian wondering in slight panic if his scent was truly that prevalent upon his mate and if in fact that combined with what the earl was _carrying_ was going to endanger their choice of hideout. Warily he brought his eyes back to the disjointed lump of undertaker, crimson piercing the man who was uttering soft _U-hu~_'s of amusement.

"Terribly sorry." The man grinned, raising his head from the counter, spindly fingers darting beneath the overgrown length of bang that obscured his eyes from sight, apparently to dab away the tears of laughter that had sprung up in his fit. "It's just… this is possibly the funniest thing I 'ave seen in all my years."

'_Bullocks. He definitely knows.'_

A warning growl rippled up from Sebastian's throat as the count beside him pricked to attention, pride obviously hurt by the unusual statement. This fact only served to provoke the demon further, his pupils drawing into fine slits.

"_Undertaker…_" he ground out.

'_Don't you dare tell him what's going on. I will bloody well dismember you if you open that proverbial can of worms right now.'_

A smile quirked over the morticians lips and he held up his hands in silent defense as though submitted to all of the demon's unspoken queries, claw-like fingers wriggling in the duo's general direction.

"It was simply amusing; you know tha' I meant no harm. Now," he punctuated abruptly, hoisting what could very well have been an untopped urn from beneath the countertop. "'Oo wants biscuits?"

Sebastian sent him a look of reproach that went entirely unnoticed by his master, who was in turn growing more impatient by the second. "What's so amusing?" he snapped, lips thinning into a line. Again the demon optically schooled the misanthrope into a proper response, conveying as much threat as a felt himself capable. Either he was much better at such a task than he thought or the man was more flippant than usual.

"Nothing that concerns you." Was the casual reply, provoking a snort of indignation from the demon. Undertaker shot him an amazingly quick look of exasperation before shoving the urn-turned-cookie-jar back at them. "Come now, don't be that way!" he exclaimed into both conversations he was holding. "'Ave a biscuit and make yourself at home." He then gestured grandly to wide array of death boxes as one might to a fine sofa or loveseat. Ciel uttered a low sigh, far too accustomed to the man's peculiar ways to bother putting up a fight and selected the elegant black lacquered coffin nearest to him. Deciding he needed all the assistance he could at the moment, Sebastian sat beside his mate, turning an imploring eye to their long-time friend.

"So," Undertaker began, toying with what might have been his second or third bone-shaped treat. "I s'ppose you came here looking for information? The remains uncovered from the accident are in the back waitin' to go in the oven."

Sebastian's thoughts temporarily derailed from his more immediate conundrum, fumbling for a second before he recalled the deaths that had occurred as a result of the peculiar factory fire. He pursed his lips in thought as the earl flinched, ever so slightly shifting towards him. He had almost forgotten about the event in the flurry of events since the avian assassin just earlier that morning.

Undertaker paused around a mouthful of shortbread, looking at the earl as though realizing he had hit upon a bad memory. "You look like you could use a spot o' tea." He said a bit louder than necessary, effectively redirecting the young lord's attentions. Sebastian shot the embalmer a grateful look as his pawed about his quasi-desk. "I recently just bought some delicious black tea with rosehips…" he mused aloud, scrounging up a small tin in one hand and a beaker of questionable origin in the other.

The earl seemed to have felt the same way, nose wrinkling as he declined with a polite, "No thank you." Unphased, the mortician slid the tea back out of sight, presumably to join its family of like-coloured tins. He leant back over the counter as Ciel continued. "But I did wish to inquire about the cause of death for my employees."

Undertaker's face broke out into another broad grin like some oversized cat that knew too many secrets for its own good. "'Ow they were murdered, you mean?" he corrected, tilting his head in such an unnatural manner that specks of iris peered through the curtain of white fringe. "If it weren't for that note, I would've suspected no foul play."

'_Note?'_ Sebastian jerked to attention, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He would have to be more thorough when raiding his master's pockets, it seemed. He sensed that Undertaker had picked up on his confusion, giving him a pointed look while continuing his story.

"There were no accelerants for the flames on their bodies, and no wounds pre or post-mortem – though it was clear to see that they were in quite a bit o' agony." His features danced between enthusiasm for his line of business and the vague notion that such things didn't – and shouldn't – provoke joy in others. "As for the perpetrators, it could be a number o' people." The tone was casual enough, but as what could be seen of his eyes slid over to meet Sebastian's, there was a silent understanding between the two men that very few things could have caused such a phenomenon and that such an attack was too purposeful to be considered safe by any means. The butler gave a brief nod in understanding.

"The young master was attacked last evening." He stated, feeling strained. Feelings of guilt and failure surged up again and he placed a hand over the nape of his master's neck as much in reassurance to the earl as it was to himself. "And not by any average assassin."

"Oh?" Undertaker hummed, flopping gracelessly over to examine the demon.

"I'd like to know if you were familiar with any bird-like supernatural beings." Sebastian queried, gliding forward off of the coffin-couch and reaching into the breast of his coat to retrieve a single, oily green-black feather. The familiar crispness of the undertaker's scent spiked, its usual comforts of fresh soil and sharp moor air spiked with something very much like alarm. A soft hum of interest tumbled from the man's lips, fingers nimbly dashing out to capture the feather and burying it within the folds of his robes.

"'Arpy." He said abruptly, stepping out from behind his desk. "Yes, no doubt about it."

Sebastian watched his procession across the room with measured concern as his friend's scent forcefully ironed itself out back to its normal order.

"Harpy?" Ciel was repeating, looking after the mortician with incredulous shock. "You mean those woman-headed birds from Greek mythology?"

"Mythology can be misleading." Undertaker countered, darkened nails already skimming across the weathered spines of a hodgepodge of books. He was staring fixedly ahead, shielded entirely from sight by the veils of his hair, voice changing ever so slightly in tone as he pressed on. "Your butler 'ere has nether horns nor hooves as many Christies would describe a demon. N'fact, the image of demons and Satan was stolen from Greece's god of nature, Pan." His fingers curled around a particularly old looking tome, extracting it from its brethren and slamming it down upon a nearby coffin with a bang and cloud of dust. "Though I do believe the term ''Arpy' is a tad outdated; 's nearly defunct by now. Yes, I do believe the term nowadays is 'Snatcher' or 'Soul-Snatcher'."

Sebastian moved in beside him, craning his neck down at the handwritten manuscript of the pages, the colour of the pictures fainter in places were hands had traced their shape after years of use. A thin layer of grimy dust coated the pages, provoking the demon to wonder why such an important-looking book had been neglected for so long. "What do you know about them?" he asked as the taller man stopped upon the allotted pages.

"Enough." The other shrugged offhandedly, scent twisting yet again. Sebastian watched as slightly wavering fingers traced the outline of a horrific black bird with a gaping hole in its breast. Undertaker gave a small cough as he redirected his attentions to the text. "Let's see 'ere; as we all know, a snatcher is made from a mother demon and a father reaper," he quickly read aloud. "Usually they're born quite uncontrollable, with an amount of energy comparable to a cambion– ."

"Pardon?" Ciel quipped, edging in to examine the book as well.

Sebastian had to keep himself from starting in shock. _'Ah, young master. At times I forget how little it is you actually know of my world.'_ Marking the event down as endearing, he tuned back in to Undertaker's explanations.

"The product of a human and an incubus or a succubus."

"A sex demon?" the earl smirked knowingly. "One of those things adulteresses blame pregnancies on?"

Once more the mortician erupted into a litany of giggles, and this time Sebastian could hardly help but to join in. "Once again, another misconception brought upon by the Christies and the Cathies. No." he sighed in amusement, much to the earl's chagrin. "While they may be 'ighly sexual and beautiful things, incubi and succubae have something much worse goin' for 'em, and that's raw power." He broke off ambiguously there, turning instead to his oversized pockets and spilling an assortment of appalling objects into the coffin they were presently using as a makeshift table until at length he found a slender pair of silver reading glasses and slipped them on over his nose. Sebastian had the distinct impression that among the skeleton keys, coffin nails, and oddly placed meat pie, that the tiny bones he was seeing were the very illegally obtained ex-appendages of the Queen's swans. Smirking at the flagrant display of rebellious antipatriotism, the demon waited for the misanthrope to sweep his hair from his eyes (while still somehow managing to obscure them from his audience) and continue to read aloud.

"' – _the form of the animal familiar of the mother_' …no, no… '_Reaper mothers usually sire_– ' now that's not it." He frowned, squinting down at the lines of crowded text. Ah! Here we are: '_The existence of _Animam Aufero_, more commonly known as harpies, snatchers, or soul-snatchers can be traced as far back as ancient Egypt, in which the reaper Anubis_– .'"

"Anubis was a god of death and mummification." Ciel interjected flatly, brow furrowing in distaste. "How can we be sure that you're not feeding us bullocks?"

"You can come over 'ere and read it yourself, if you're uncertain." Undertaker challenged conversationally, the faintest traces of hurt coming from him. "But ask yourself this, young earl: 'ave I ever lied to you before?"

It took all the resolve Sebastian had not to pin the man with a look of disbelief. _'Try just a few minutes back, when you chose the words 'nothing that concerns you'. Funnily enough, pregnancy usually GREATLY concerns the mother.'_

The embalmer was either completely unaware of the demon's inner raging or, more likely, completely content in ignoring it as he watched the earl's expression sour.

"You've concealed the truth, which is as good as lying." He grumbled, squeezing in between the two men to peer down at the peculiar depictions accompanying the passage. Sebastian was wont to publically agree with the Phantomhive, but thought the better of it when the only thing keeping Undertaker from spilling the precarious little secret was a flimsy matter of the other man's levels of personal amusement and good temperament. Again, the man began to read aloud.

"'—_in which the reaper Anubis sired an illegitimate child with the cow demoness Hathor, whom was incorrectly celebrated as a reaper by many humans. The child born from their union was Dendara: a sickly, twisted creature with a massive gash in its chest, through which a beating heart could be clearly seen. The creature neither acted nor spoke like either a god or a demon, communicating in shrieks that have been said to wake the dead and going on violent rampages throughout small Egyptian villages._"

Sebastian pressed closer forwards, subtly caressing the back of his master's hand as he stared at the images before him with transfixed horror.

"'_Disgusted, Anubis cut the very beating heart from the creature's chest; only to find that it did not die. The thing tore into the nearest village and extracted a human's soul, plunging it into its very chest. After several attempts to slay his curséd offspring, Anubis came to realize that it was using the human soul as an energy source to heal its wounds. It was only when Anubis pinned Dendara with his sword, wrenched the soul from the creature and bled it to death that he was able to destroy it once and for all. Interestingly enough, the method for slaying a snatcher remains true to the tale of Anubis and his child Dendara; the heart must be extracted from the snatcher's chest and it must be slain whilst not containing a heart or a stolen soul to leech energy from_.'"

With a macabre sense of finality, Undertaker snapped the tome shut, causing his audience to start as he carelessly traipsed back to the bookshelf and jammed the thing back in its former place. "A lovely story." He lilted, turning back to them with his signature quirked grin. "One of my favourites as a child."

"You were a child once?" Ciel shot back dryly, much to the undertaker's amusement. Sebastian himself could only envision a mopheaded child in oversized robes, giggling to himself and clinging on to a disembodied limb. Much like the Undertaker before him, only in disturbing miniature.

"Strangely enough, yes." Came the whimsical reply, only confirming the disturbing images Sebastian was providing for himself. The mortician stole back behind the counter, fishing out another bone-shaped shortbread. "Sure you don't want any biscuits?"

"Quite." The earl bit back. "Well, I believe we got what we came here for. Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lord." He automatically intoned, shooting a questioning look towards Undertaker as he detected the man's movements. A private smirk answered him, as if daring the demon to question his motives.

"Oh, Earl!" he called. "Do catch!"

With that, he sent an obtuse parcel flying through the air, immediately finding purchase in Sebastian's outstretched hand, and subconsciously he knew that he was meant to be the one to first receive it. Uncertainly he held the offended package out to his master, who took it and turned it about with curious fingers. A handsome letter opener sat in his hands, sheathed in leather and pressed slightly with gold filigree. Undertaker twisted about behind his desk, eyes locked resolutely on the confused earl.

"You'll know what to do with it." He lilted mysteriously, shooing the pair off good naturedly from his shop. He and Sebastian exchanged one last heated look before the demon escorted his mate into the crooked alley.

'_He has a choice, you know.'_

'_One I'd rather he not take.'_

"He was considerably more cryptic than usual today." Ciel commented slowly, eyes dragging up to meet his butler's, whose own were seeing something beyond his reach.

'_I don't like what it is that you imply, my friend.'_ He thought distantly, still reeling from what the mortician had unloaded on them both. _'You know I'm the sort to fiercely protect that with which I lo– .'_

"And you are being strangely quiet." The earl accused, jarring the demon from his near-self admission. A lucky interference, that. Slightly abashed, he cleared his throat.

"It's nothing that should concern you, my lord." He assuaged, producing the black umbrella from the front of his coat once more. "I was merely intrigued by what our dear friend mentioned. Now, I do believe it will begin to rain in a moment."

Just as he knew it would, fat droplets began to drip from the sky, pattering off the canvas of the umbrella now spread above their heads. Absorbed with the implications of the strange gift and its possible effects on his master's condition, he wrapped an arm about his mate's waist, drawing him in and reveling in their unusual closeness. The comforting waft of strawberries mingled across his sleeve and, unmarred by the astringent chemicals of Undertaker's home and shop, he could detect the gentle undercurrent of sugared éclairs.

"My apologies, my lord." He said softly, feeling not an ounce of sincerity to put behind them. "But I do believe that this is the most effective method to keeping you dry. I do not mean in infringe upon your personal space."

"It's fine." The smaller mumbled, inspiring the bubbling of berries into the smell of a pleasing, warmer concoction. "But I've noticed something as of late."

An icy weight plunged inside the demon's stomach and he stilled, turning his face downwards, schooled into a mask of calm surprise. "Oh?" Ciel's eyes narrowed, somewhat unconvinced by the familiar show.

"You've been touching me as much as possible these past several days. It's been very peculiar, to say the least. Not to mention your new tendency to get quite… _possessive _whenever somebody else attempts to lay a hand on my person."

Despite himself, a grin formed upon the demon's lips, the notion that his mate had recognized such tender motions warming him and giving him the giddy sensation that such actions might actually be _welcomed_. It was almost like a token of acknowledgement or appreciation. Sebastian allowed himself to think in such a way, at least. "I am merely watching out for my lord's displeasure of contact." He replied smoothly, caressing the gentle slope of his mate's neck, unable to keep from leaving even stronger proofs of his scent. He dipped his head to hover over the earl's own, seductively tilting the other's head up to meet his, rosy lips a mere breath away. "I apologize for assuming that you would allow me to touch you in an intimate matter." He purred lowly, curling his fingers through wisps of soft air as a single sapphire eye glazed over in obvious desire, erratic heartbeat thrumming like a trapped rabbit pounding through the demon's ears. "Though that would be far from an unfamiliar sensation, hnn?" he crooned, angling closer with wicked intent before calmly backing away altogether, leaving the Phantomhive frustrated and confused as all evidences of what was his demon evanesced under the façade of the loyal butler.

The gale whipped about them, snatching away the delicate aromas of Ciel and drowning the compacted emotions of their combined worries, leaving them bare as nothing more than a young lord and his faithful servant. "We should return to the estate as soon as possible, my lord." Sebastian said gently, sheltering his earl from all the troubles he could and could not see. "I wouldn't want to risk you catching a cold while you're in this condition."

The rain fell with steady intent, roiling into sheets and pelting the pair as they made their way back to the estate, the butler's arm draped about the smaller's shoulders, melding their forms together as the storm raged on around them.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hey guys! Remember me? Yeah, I wouldn't remember me either with as long as I've made ya'll wait for this chapter. Sorry it's been so long and thank you for sticking with me and with Together Again! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter; I have around three thousand words of chapter four done, and I hope to have it finished and ready to post soon. :3

Ornithoptera Victoriae is the latin name for Queen Victoria's Birdwing, a gigantic specie of butterfly with a wingspan of fifteen to eighteen centimeters. I chose this butterfly because of it's title - birdwing, alluding to the harpy - first, and it's beautiful colouration second. Google these things, they're gorgeous!


	4. Glaucopsyche Xerxes

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter Four**

**Glaucopsyche Xerxes **

_"What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?__"_

William Shakespeare (Hamlet; Act II, Scene ii)

Since their arrival at the London estate, the days had sped by like horse-drawn chariots, bleeding into weeks in a turbulent mesh of business appointments, visitations, errands, and the ceaseless comings and goings of tutors and the Indian duo. Despite his approval of the earl's decisions to rest, Sebastian grew restless, feeling utterly displaced living as merely a guest. All of the Phantomhive's instructors had been informed of his reclusion to the London manor and had – however chagrined – willingly come at their regular scheduled hours (much to Ciel's chagrin). This caused much commotion at the start, with Soma bounding around like an overgrown puppy, eagerly trying to determine what a 'proper English education' consisted of. Despite the prince's loud protests and propensity to endanger household items (vases were particularly endangered on account of his wild gesticulations), Sebastian couldn't help but find the deepest pleasure in these events as he watched the helpless British gentlemen and women try their best to fend him off. They failed spectacularly every time, of course, but the butler always made sure to call the Bengal man off before his master could throw him a look that threatened complaint.

But these short-lived moments left Sebastian with far too much time on his hands, leaving him to watch with sinking feelings of failure as Agni gracefully swept about and cleaned the house. It wasn't that he hadn't offered his assistance – rather, he was getting so desperate that he was torn between begging and black mailing – it was simply that the Indian butler had the same unfortunate affliction as the demon, protesting that doing any less than his duty would be shameful. So Sebastian sat fitfully upon the drawing room armchairs, sending forlorn looks out the bay windows and wishing for something productive to do with himself.

It wasn't an often occurrence that Sebastian found himself to be utterly _bored_. It wasn't as if he had nothing to do at all, simply what he had to do only lasted a brief interim of time before he was plunged back into the endless monotony of nothingness. He thanked his lot in life that he had come to be a butler: he was one with a high strung personality, a being that always needed to be on the go and doing something actively. The lifestyle of a lord would absolutely have killed him.

At length he turned to fiddle at the piano – finding it horrendously out of tune – bringing it upon himself to fix, which was all too easy. Every so often he would plunk at the keys, creating a small melody before drawing the lid back down with a sigh. He then tried reading, pawing through the multiple bookshelves about the manor and looking for a spine that might catch his interest. He found that many foreign texts had weaseled their way onto the shelves as well, and on occasion he selected one only to squint and frown down at the unusual curly characters that made up the Indian text. Unsurprisingly to the demon, many of the English novels he did find were either uninteresting or ones that he had already read: he was certain if he poured over the pages of _Hamlet_ one more time, he'd be able to start reciting lines verbatim.

In the evenings he wandered down to the kitchens, the one arena that Agni actually allowed him to participate in, constantly marveling at the butler's quick actions and precision. "Surely the grace of your God is with you!" he would smile kindly, ignorant of the other's blood. Sebastian would reply with a smile of his own, staying tight-lipped on the matter. Together they concocted more food than the small household could possibly consume, which neither seemed to mind very much. After the conclusion of dinner each night, the two butlers would meander back down to the pantry and Agni would instruct his companion on the benefits and uses of each of the imported spices. Branching off of his knowledge of curry, Sebastian would then while away the time creating new dishes, occasionally talking to his equal about the merits of the food from his country: moreover, the composition of French sweets that the Brits so dearly loved. And while he waited for a broth to simmer or for yeast to rise, he let his thoughts wander back to the servants back at the Phantomhive manor, fondly wondering if they'd destroyed his precious home yet or not.

But soon even the estate couldn't appease his boredom, and he found himself slipping out of doors every second his master was occupied in a lesson, trusting the others to hold down the proverbial fort. London itself was not a stranger to Sebastian, and he enjoyed mapping out every sparse inch of it during his midday strolls. When counting royal warrants lost their appeal, he found himself slipping into back alleys, more often than not acting as an accidental police on the goings-on there. It took him only two days of this to discover where the majority of the alley cats congregated and he soon won their favour by bringing them scraps from the estate's pantries. As they mewled and nuzzled his pant legs he contemplated what his own offspring might be like should Ciel not downright try to murder him for the conception in the first place.

These thoughts usually unsettled his stomach, making it churn with worry, guilt, and the faintest traces (but remarkably less of) regret, and his feet more often than not found their way to the splintering little shop that belonged to Undertaker. The bell would jingle, the fumes overpower his delicate senses, and a litany of cockney would assault him. It was certainly an odd combination of things for one to find comfort in.

"Should I tell him?" he asked, watching the other man thoughtfully suck on a biscuit until it crumbled behind closed lips.

"Well I think you ought to, guv."

"But _what_ should I tell him? He isn't bloody well going to believe it, is he?"

"Well of _course_ 'e's not going to Adam an' Eve it, fragile thing 'e is." The other sighed, shaking his head. He rolled his shoulders back until they gave a soft pop, changing position to list across his desk at the troubled demon. "But 'ere's the thing: you and I both know that somethin' is after 'im. I don't like it anymore 'n you do, believe me, the way Vincent trusted 'im to my care an' all, but it's too dangerous for 'im not to know. 'E 'as the right, don't you think, bein' the one carrying it and all?"

Sebastian sighed, slumping gracelessly into his casket-couch. The mortician sent him a pitying look, turning on heel to scrounge about in his private tea collection.

"Earl Grey?" he offered liltingly.

The demon could perfectly envision the man's teasing grin. "Don't you even." He warned dully, running a gloved hand through his hair.

"Only playing, guv." The other hummed, the sound of silver spoons clinking acting as a near-therapeutic sound to the distressed butler. "'Ow about a chamomile– ?"

"Causes drowsiness." Sebastian interjected, staring up at the ceiling and counting the numerous ways those stains could have gotten _there_.

"Ah hu~ I was testing you! Alright, alright, I'm making some herbal so don't fuss." There was the fluttering of the embalmer's long robes as he bustled about before they drew short before the demon's casket. Long white hair tickled his face as Undertaker keened over to look at him. "Lot on your bacon, I see."

"On my what?" the demon scowled, righting himself to the best of his ability in the awkward shape of the casket.

"Your mind." Undertaker translated with a fluttering of long nails. "This is really eating at you, isn't it?"

"Course it is." Sebastian countered sulkily. "Above all else, he is my master and as such I have the responsibility and need to care for him and keep him from harm or dismay. This present situation is harshly contradicting those needs and all the while I can't help but feel pride in the fact that I've marked such a brilliant creature as my own. It's quite sick, isn't it?"

"That isn't sick, guv." The undertaker hummed, lips softening into a smile. "Loving a person isn't sick."

The demon jolted upright, coughing in surprise. "L- … preposterous." He said firmly. "Completely out of the question."

"Oh really?" the mortician queried, sounding rather insincere as he lolled his head to the side, piercing the butler with a look despite his eyes being hidden. "I don't quite believe you."

"Come off it." Sebastian growled, now sitting entirely in the wooden death box. "In no universe do our worlds compliment: my inability to make proper life choices makes no bearing on that concept of… affection."

Undertaker stooped lower, bangs parting so that his unusual chartreuse met with crimson. "Your decision to follow orders shouldn't be misconstrued or used as a weapon." He stated evenly. "I know you better than tha', Sebastian. You're not the sort to press a move, 'specially not on the young earl. I don't know wha' transpired between you two, but bottlin' it like this won't do you any favours."

The demon gave a low grumble of admission, eyes flickering away from the knowing pair boring into him. "Well you seem to be right on all accounts, but all the same it doesn't mean that I– ." He blinked in surprise as a single clawed digit tapped his nose in an unusually affectionate sort of gesture.

"None of tha'!" Undertaker hummed, Cheshire smile returning to his features. "If you love 'im – an' I _know_ you do, guv, don't try an' deny it – then you'll let 'im know what the 'ell is going on. You'd be fool to not think tha'd mean something to 'im."

Sebastian gave a small sigh of defeat, giving the man an imploring look as a cat might appeal to pity with its ears drooped. "Alright, you've convinced me – though I am _not_ admitting to any suggestion of yours. …How does one tell a male that they're pregnant?"

"Do your best, guv!" the mortician smiled all too cheerily, wrapping the demons fingers around a steaming cup of tea. "An' if 'e tosses you out, you can sleep in one o' these coffins for a night or two."

"Don't even joke." The demon groaned, bringing the hot fluid to his lips. "It's bad enough that he'll think me a liar and a seducer. I won't have much dignity left by that point."

'_Not to mention the thought of leaving him alone would about break me.'_

"Don't fret over it too much." Undertaker said kindly, swirling his own beaker of tea. "If 'e's your mate as you think, then 'e wouldn't want you any further from 'im than you would. 'S'long as you keep 'im safe." He sent the butler a sidelong glance, finally catching his attention when he managed to slide a biscuit into the other's mouth. "Ah cheer up, sport. You've always been impeccable with your phrasing an' you know 'e trusts you more'n anyone. Can't be so bad, can it?" Sebastian gave him a baleful look around a mouthful of cookie, unable to fight down the blush that rose as a result of the compliment. Undertaker took this as a sign of success and grinned, fetching a stack of mug-stained papers and hauling them over to his friend. "Now, about that factory fire."

For an hour they passed the time pouring over the records of the incident, trying to determine what sort of being might have formed an agenda while Sebastian felt the squirming apprehension of his insides fade away. By the time he had collected himself to leave – stuffed with biscuits and tea – he had put out much of his worries, feeling lighter than he had in days with the blossoming appreciation that he had at least one good friend in London.

* * *

The pleasant feeling that the day's conversation had brought him lasted all the way through dinner, giving Sebastian the distinct feeling that he was most likely smiling into his chicken, drawing the eyes of the rooms' occupants. If he was, they made no comment on the matter and conversed about the onset of November and the snowfall that was bound to come. He paid them little notice, wrapped up in his own slightly unburdened mind. Feeling quite unwound, he went through the paces of his obligations as butler, leading his master into the bedroom prepared for him and easing him out of his day clothes.

Ciel's scent had grown sweeter still, the note of fresh éclair that no doubt belonged to the kit growing within the teen standing out more remarkably than before. Sebastian did his best to curb his instincts, fingers lingering almost too long across the pale expanse of stomach or against the delicate curve of the earl's neck. Doused in the arousing scents of his unknowing mate, the butler watched almost impatiently as Ciel crawled into bed, burying himself and his alluring essence into the warm sheets. Satisfied that the lord was comfortable, Sebastian slunk down to his own chambers, absorbed in the thoughts that he hadn't paid _himself_ much mind lately.

He locked the door behind him, hardly bothering to undress himself, his belt and blazer pooling at his feet followed shortly after by his gloves. On a normal night, he wouldn't have dared to be so careless, but the fire rushing through his veins from the brief encounter with his mate caused him to act otherwise. He hummed deep in his throat as he approached the bed, half purring as he eased onto it, stretching luxuriously over the comforter. The mattress melted around him, relieving the stiffness in his spine and he closed his eyes in pleasure as a stray hand roamed across his chest, fiddling with and popping open the topmost buttons.

He called to mind the way his mate had smelled upstairs, fertile and alluring and altogether surrendering and covered in the very faintest brushes of himself. He smirked through a shiver as his fingers worked down to his sensitive hips, tracing feather light patterns across the hallows of his bones. He fantasized how the lord might digest such information, how his own slender hands would feel experimentally smoothing over the planes of his stomach, down over his hips… The demon hummed deeply again, pressing down further to toy at the waistband of his trousers, pricking electrified currents of anticipation wherever the pads of his fingers brushed. He thought of how the earl looked in his nightshirt; improperly short for a teen on the cusp of turning seventeen. How wickedly _short_ it was, barely covering the maturing sculpt of the Phantomhive's legs, which the demon already knew were quite strong and sensitive to the touch.

A shivering sigh tumbled from his lips as he slowly continued to tease himself, gathering the scraps of his rational mind to conjure the feelings of his mate several rooms above. The effect was better than he had expected and a purr of pleasure tore through him, feeling for all the world that the object of his affection were right there beside him. But the stronger he focused on the earl, the less aroused he became, feeling the pinpricks of fear and shame enter his person. Concerned (and marginally disappointed), he sat up, letting the emotions fill him up until he was quite sure that his master had fallen victim to another nightmare.

Not minding to collect his discarded garments he padded up the stairs, stepping through the bedchamber doors just as the summons was uttered.

"Sebastian."

"My lord." The demon whispered, overcome with worry for the well-being of the clearly frightened teen before him.

"Sit on the edge of my bed." Ciel said, voice small but steady. The butler thought back to what he had been about to do on the edge of his own bed and blushed with guilt as he did as instructed, thankful that the human species had weak eyesight in the dark. He tangled his hands through his hair, hoping himself presentable as he recalled the discarded blazer. Not knowing what else to do, he folded his gloveless-hands before his lap, awaiting some sort of instruction.

"I want you to stay in here with me at night." Ciel said, wriggling under the covers as if they were shielding off his embarrassment. Sebastian blinked in shock, every ounce of demonic blood in his veins roaring with gratitude. "Only leave if you need to use the lavatory or if there is an emergency. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord." The butler replied softly, intent upon the form of the most precious being in his life. He yearned to reach out and provide a soothing caress, to nuzzle in reassurance and support, but his hands remained poised neatly in his lap, eyes misting with relief that his presence was finally wanted. Ciel tilted his head curiously, taking in the gentle glow of his butler's eyes before lowering himself back down to the mattress and succumbing to sleep.

Sebastian watched the shallow waves of his mate's chest rising and falling beneath the blankets, noting the hands curled comfortably over the hem of the pillow, a smile resting across his features. Now there was nothing but the sensations of serenity and trust flooding his senses, warming his chest with notions of acceptance and worth. Careful as not to wake his master, the demon toed off his shoes and crawled up behind the slumbering count. Tenderly he toyed with the dark strands of hair that spilt over the bedding, nuzzling the crook of the teen's neck and allowing his lids to flutter shut. It was utterly peaceful and _right_, their bodies melded together in the purest of ways. The hand emblazoned with the contract sigil rested over Ciel's upturned hip, for once not in lust but in chaste reassurance that the demon would never leave the side of the one he did in fact love.

* * *

It was no time at all before the boredom of civility bore into him, a whispering creature whose claws latched themselves firmly in his chest. For a demon masquerading amongst humans, London was no more than a den of sleepless eyes. A cluttered conclave of twittering voices, pecking up the smallest oddity or rumor like it were shiny tinsel to brighten up the dullness of the daily existence. Humankind was dimwitted on the whole, to be sure, but it made them all the more prone to believe in the incredible simply because they desired to. So the demon continued his restrained lifestyle, feeling more and more like some macabre exotic pet in the meticulous suffocation of the city.

Domestics had left him utterly useless. Everything within the manor already sparkled; nothing was left to be polished yet another time, no silverware left to straighten. The gardens were the most weed free they had been in years, the hedges were smoothly shorn, beds of fresh seeds lay sleeping. Meat had been salted, wine catalogued, books gone weak with pages that had been flipped with too much vigor. The entire place was little more than a giant mausoleum.

Tutors flitting to and fro, the constant presence of foreign friends, the bustle of curious local aristocracy, the opium laced scents of businessmen. Humans in the house, the streets, the shops. It wasn't as though Sebastian was unaccustomed to keeping up appearances, but he had learned to ignore the incredulity of the other servants, who were content with keeping their suspicions to themselves. There was a sense of comfort in the isolation of the main estate, a sort of privacy that was no doubt intended by the earliest of the Phantomhive line. It hadn't taken the butler long to realize the musky scent that clung to even the oldest heirlooms belonged to the undertaker. He often wondered what the peculiar man truly was, but it was clear from his ongoing presence that at the very least, the butler himself was not the first (nor, he contemplated, would be the last) demon to waltz across the threshold. For whatever reason, the Phantomhives had long since harboured the world's other sentient beings and had structured their property to match their needs. Sebastian yearned for that security.

The countryside was the demon's only respite. Beyond the perimeter of manicured lawn, the grass grew in springy tufts, cloven by tiny paws and pocked by the burrowing of snakes. Nature had reclaimed its old haunts, embracing the weathered wood of forgotten sheds and cottages. Here, a groundkeeper had made his home, the stone walls now forming lichen covered nests, there, the splintering remains of a derelict barn leaned into an unsteady hutch, home to the mangled carcasses of grassland hunts. By December the matted fur would be stripped clean, leaving delicate eggshell bone that the demon planned to sell to the undertaker.

He had found the unique cameos, the mobiles made of brittle bird bones, the etched and painted spines: all gifts to a once whole family. If there was anyone who could appreciate the demon's rodent genocide, it was likely to be the mortician. Each limp, warm form helped the infernal being release the tension in his chest, the hammering in his head. Boredom was keeping him like a caged creature, complacent enough to daydream about the feel of silken cravats unraveling in his palms, claws finding purchase in yielding skin… their lame alternatives heaped beneath the shade of the barn, piled in twisted clumps of stiff paws and broken jaws. His younger self would have deemed it a waste, but his distracted and anxious mind could care less about the pilfering foxes and moor cats that filched the prey he had slaughtered.

When not even this could satiate him, he would turn and venture further. After a time, the impressions of humankind's mark faded away; the ambling trails petering out into marsh, squared off fields melting into wooded hills. Here the air was free from the smolder of hearth fires, instead impregnated by the crispness of November air, mist-laden and expanding the lungs with a burning chill. Breaking through a copse of trees, Sebastian came upon a lush hill, atop which was a gnarled old oak, aflame with the golden progression of autumn. Years prior the place had become his favourite escape.

It had been spring, then, and he had still been in a phase he often looked back to as being his adolescence. That particular chapter of his life had been cut unexpectedly short by his introduction to the Phantomhive, or, rather, the former house steward. The temporary staff had kept their heads down, soft whimpers of fear escaping their lips whenever the uncouth butler crossed their path. They had been paid handsomely for their brief duration of service, the only encouragement needed for them to keep their silence about the peculiar disturbances they had been subjected to, compensations paid in full for damaged property or impossibly broken bones.

"It's still too hot, you ingrate." The child grit out through clenched teeth. The demon gave an apathetic shrug.

"Don't be so damn picky about your baths." He shot back. "Do you want to be sterilized from that filth you've been slutting in or not?"

The leer vanished as soggy fabric lashed against his skin, leaving an angry red welt below his eye. He gave the half damp towel an incredulous look, slowly collecting it in his gloved hands. The earl stood over him, naked and shaking. The eyes that returned his gaze still held their glassy indifference, but beneath the pool of lilac something akin to emotion stirred, the inklings of anger and shame. The demon glanced away as something uncomfortable uncurled in his gut. The shadows of afternoon light licked at the hollows of the boy's sallow skin, accentuating the frail wrists and atrophied legs, kneecaps and collarbones jutting out painfully. Distorted over the valleys of his ribs the possessive brand puckered, blistered pink by the steam of the bath.

"Is that what you saw?" the raspy voice challenged him. It was barely louder than a whisper, but the demon flinched under its bite.

The cracked altar, the blood-slicked iron bars. The forceful purple garters of fingerprints that even now clasped resisting thighs. No, there was no consent there.

"Are those your assessments," The earl broke off with a short gasp, crumpling to his already scabbed knees upon the hard tile. He chocked, piteously unaware of the tears bubbling over dirt streaked cheeks. "Or are those the recycled words of someone else?"

The demon recoiled, the water upon his face scalding with memory, words – sharp little knives – spreading open the neatly folded things he'd tucked out of sight. The shrill, passionless laughter, the crashing of china over his skull that cascaded in lacerating cuts over his shoulders, the angry grasp around his forearm, bodily dragging him down the halls, battering him against walls, doors, bedposts… He growled against the barrage of images, glaring down at the boy who had provoked them. The other looked up with nervous claret eyes, triangular feline ears tattered and bloody.

"I'm not a slut…" he said brokenly.

The demon lurched backwards in horror, upending a vase and shattering it upon the checkered floor. The very human Ciel gave a curious look through tear clouded orbs as the door burst open. The steward turned from the prone form to the demon pressed up against the wall, examining him critically. Without meeting the steward's accusations, the butler shoved the towel into his hands and brushed passed him into the darkening hall. He didn't know when he began running, flitting beyond the ghostlike visages of gloved ladies, of gentlemen with canes and hard looks, of a girl with loose hair tangled in ribbon.

He wasn't sure how he came to the magnificent oak. He had thrown himself between the breaching roots, warm grass dappled with sunlight. He wasn't certain how long he lay there, an hour, two, six. Blankly he had considered finding a new master, or of returning to his boundless life. Getting money where he could find it – or where it found him – and existing as the bane of farmers and fathers. But when the toads began singing under the silvered moon, the demon had wordlessly picked himself up and slipped off in the direction of the manor.

Now the boroughs of roots were stuffed with leaves and the shells of fallen acorns. Downy feathers belied the nest of tawny breasted owls cradled above. Sebastian trailed his claws across the aged bark, slipping the spotless gloves into the front of his vest. He had been filled with shame that day, queasy with recollections and regrets, but too prideful to voice any of them. Casting a look in the general direction of the manor, he apologized for his past transgressions, knowing unsatisfactorily that none of them would matter, the trauma having erased months of the young earl's life from his memory altogether. The Phantomhive had only ever known him as perfect, whipped into shape by Tanaka's reinforcements, language neatly curtailed of its usual obscenities. The false impressions were almost worse than the boy remembering the way things had truly been, but the demon supposed that such a cruel internal turmoil was what he was due. For a moment he stood and calculated his senses: an order could reach him anywhere, yet the succulent sweetness of his master's scent could only carry as far as the boundary of the demon's tree. Certain that he hadn't drifted too far, Sebastian relaxed, releasing the electric need to protect and please the Phantomhive. Granted, the earl would soon have reason to look down on him once again.

With a burdened sigh, the butler slumped down against the trunk of the tree, staring out over the crest of the hill to what made the spot his favourite. Below spread a wide valley, a flat, glassy lake collected in the bottom of the basin, calmly mirroring back the sky and earth that encapsulated it from all sides. Above and below the sky was a wooly grey, the occasional swath of clear blue peering through the blinds of fleece. The water beneath reached up and caressed its shy visage, married together by flawless reflection. The equally ageless hills stood silent guardian, captured by the water's embrace. Its sloping pines extended towards the heavens, beckoning them to join hands with the lake, entrusting them to the other's care, rooted to the earth that governed them. There was a beauty in the helplessness of nature.

"My, _you_ look depressed!"

The demon jumped up with a hiss, senses suddenly overwhelmed by the natural perfume of candied apples and roses and _reaper_. Fangs nipping into the flesh of his lips he did his best to suppress the growl rising in the back of his throat. "What do _you_ want?" he snapped, glaring down at the being pressed against his chest.

"Mn~?" the reaper crooned in faux innocence, pointed grin ruining the illusion. "Moi? I happen to be out on business, you know." He huffed as he was forcibly pushed away.

"Get off my person." the cat demon grumbled darkly. "And I doubt the validity of your business, _reaper_. Why else would you have snuck up on me?"

Grell blinked confusedly at the butler, slowly looking down to the cumbersome chainsaw dragging at his side. "Have you ever tried to sneak _anywhere_ with a Death Scythe before?" he whined. "It can't be done, Sebby –."

"_Sebastian_."

"– especially for a delicate woman like myself!" The reaper pouted at the resulting scoff, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. "But I _am_ here on business, you see. Well, of course there was that factory business, but I trust you know all about that, of course. A Funtom factory, my, my."

The demon stilled, irises narrowing as he caught the shift in the other's tone – a rare note of seriousness. "Naturally, yes. You seem to have bothered to remember the specifics, I see." He tossed out, inwardly bracing himself for the sappy, love struck reply that didn't come.

"As should you. You're smart enough to know when you're being targeted."

The demon's hackles rose and when he spoke, his voice glimmering with suppressed feral warnings. "If you know anything about the matter, you'd better speak it now. I'm sure your superiors won't appreciate the mess they'll have on their hands if I find out you've withheld something just for the sake of fucking around with me."

"Oh! You're quite uncouth when you're off your leash, aren't you?" Grell admonished with an excited flush. His scent rippled with a prickle of fear. "But I'll take you seriously for now, ah hah… " He cast a sad look to his weapon as if personally disappointed with it for not being a more adept reaper that could protect him.

"Then get to it." Sebastian prodded, tone smoothing oddly. "The loneliness is dripping from your already obnoxiously flamboyant scent."

"I am not! How dare…" the reaper flailed uncomfortably, drawing the chainsaw closer to his person. "And I am _not_ about to divulge anything that will get me into trouble – erm, more trouble… - with my department, so don't try to press your luck, cat." When Sebastian gave a stiff shouldered shrug he continued. "Well for starters, you do know about the harpy, don't you?"

"I'm surprised you knew the term." The demon retorted, vaguely annoyed that the answer had seemingly come so easy to the other. _"What, is this some trivia that reapers are generally aware of?"_ He thought back to the mortician and dismissed the notion. _"Then again, I haven't the faintest what he is, what with his scent muddled in chemicals day in and day out. I still can't tell if the fresh soil and pines are natural or a consequence of his work."_

"We're thoroughly briefed." Grell replied in a clipped tone, no doubt recalling a certain industrious coworker. "But you ought to know, too, that those birds don't work on their own. They don't have the mental awareness to choose targets. Hell," he continued, brows knitting together. "This one seems to be huge from the size of the claw marks we've discovered. It's a wonder it's even made it to this size without destroying itself."

The demon winced against the memories of decaying flesh and mottled feathers. "So someone's been nursing it, then?" he clarified, thoughts beginning to race. _"If that's the case, then it can heal much faster than I originally anticipated. It may not matter if some of its senses are dulled, either: if its caretaker is really that determined to seek out my mate… "_ Anxiously, he set his eyes on the line of trees that obscured the hazy outline of the manor.

"Regrettably." Grell said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "What's more, we can't pinpoint what is guiding it: the scent is heavily obscured, it's quite peculiar. But, would you believe it? They have the gall to gallivant all over the place, leaving their musk everywhere, dropping bodies all the while!"

"Musk?" Sebastian echoed, thoughts grinding to a halt.

"Erm, well, yes, I think so, anyway." The reaper quailed, as if suddenly self-conscious, a loop of hair winding between his gloved fingers.

The demon paused, as though seeing the reaper for the first time. Trust Grell to appeal to non-natural aesthetics. "That's brilliant." He mumbled in disbelief, tingeing the reaper's cheeks a brilliant pink, floral scent spiking. "Roses."

"Eh… what?"

"Roses, part of your natural scent is roses. That's what was throwing me off."

"I'm… sorry?" the reaper recoiled, hurt.

"No, the scent, see?" Sebastian continued, more to himself than to anyone else. "We're so used to trying to find the natural aroma of a being; she's wearing Creed, it's musk and Bulgarian rose. The bitch has thrown us off her trail by using so much perfume."

"Ah!" the other gasped, eyes widening. "That's so tactical. Then… these killings haven't been random. We'd expect that of the harpy, but its stench hasn't been anywhere near the drops, so she's trying to mimic its natural actions–."

"Exactly; she's keeping your lot and the Yard away from the Phantomhive properties. She doesn't want anyone to interfere with her plans."

A familiar iciness sunk in the demon's belly, stinging worse than any mint or sorbet could manage. The pair looked pointedly back towards the hub of London, to where the earl was holed up, ignorant of the extent of the danger unfolding about him. Something dark burgeoned on the horizon, an oily sort of presence that assaulted the butler's palate.

"Is that…?" the reaper whispered, frozen to the spot as the wind carried back the scent.

"You should submit your report." The demon muttered darkly, securing the gloves about his wrists.

Grell nodded, eyes still fixed beyond the thicket. With effort, he drug himself to face the butler. "I don't know what's going on between you and that kid." He said unevenly. "But don't lose your head: whatever's pulling the strings is beyond your kind and mine."

Not bothering to refute the hidden accusations, Sebastian searched the vibrant green eyes for any sense of insincerity, and, finding none, gave a curt nod before tearing off into the wood. The landscape whirled past him in a dizzying blur of slate and mahogany and green as the sky began to grow inky with evening. Watery globes began to patter against his back and upon the outstretched plains of his face. Cursing the disorienting rain, he allowed himself to unfocus his eyes entirely, training himself wholly on the repugnant odor. It was closing in faster than he could account for, and he swerved along its disjointed trail, determined to meet it before the scent dampened into obscurity. A far off crash resounded in his skull and instinctually he knew that the beast had made it to its destination. _"Protect. Destroy."_ An obtuse mantra that propelled the demon across the plain, vaulting up the back of the tree whose branches leant into the shattered window.

Jagged shards of glass littered the carpet, the hallway encasing the curdling smells of rotting entrails and greasy plumage overwhelming the acrid sting of fear. There, the creature towered, open mawed, talons anchoring itself over its trembling mouse. Sheer animalistic rage bubbled up inside the demon, blood roaring angrily in his head as the thing dipped its distorted head, angling itself down, down, against the vulnerable belly of the earl, eager to taste and kill –

Unearthly shrieks pierced his eardrums as he inhaled the shocked aroma of his mate, embracing the young man to his chest and fighting the urge to pin him against the wall himself. To nuzzle and console and lick that sweet neck. To caress the stomach within which was the child the poor earl didn't even know was endangering him. _"It tried to hurt my mate. It tried to kill my child. It tried to _kill_ our –_."

The buffeting of wind came too late and sharp talons raked across the demon's back, driving the sense from his mind as his irises prickled into an electric scarlet. A snarl tore from his throat as he pivoted, arm still secured about his mate, free claws finding purchase in the milky eyes of the avian, soaring across the viscous orbs and ripping as viciously as possible. The creature emitted a deafening scream, clawing at its scarred face in vain hopes of regaining vision. Sebastian froze, every instinct within him demanding that he stay by the earl's side, no matter what.

"_I left your side, and look what happened. If I had been only a few seconds late… it wanted to kill you. It nearly hurt you. It nearly destroyed our kit. You could be dead. Both of you. I'd never feel your warmth, inhale your scent. I'd have failed you, I can't– ."_

Again the wings beat, and the demon drew his conclusion a split-second later.

"_But you're human, my darling, and you can't defend yourself. I promise I'll protect you. Stay down, please stay down."_

Losing the last of his composure, the demon whirled, launching himself at the oversized bird. The thrill of fully active demon blood coursed through him, lit by the spurs of wrath. He slashed at the harpy, releasing hot ribbons of blood, batting it against the nearest wall. In a blur, the beast recovered, charging forward, only to be smacked back to the carpeted floor with another swipe of claws. Conscious thought burned away as the patterns of the harpy outlined before the demon's eyes. Talons outstretched towards his chest and he buried his claws in their base, hurling the creature away with tearing pressure. A shriek, a yowl, he wasn't sure which sounds came from his own throat. Blood gurgled from the thing's body, eliciting a feral thirst within the demon, and he surged forward yet again to slice a new design into its breast.

He shot past the bird, skidding gracefully across the floor, turning just in time to see the spread-winged charge. A talon kicked up in the final seconds and nicked the underside of his chin. He sprang back into a crouch, growling as hot copper filled his senses, distantly thankful that his jaw was still intact. The harpy cawed mockingly above him, beating its soiled wings in self-proclaimed victory. The tension coiled in the demon's limbs as the bird cocked its massive head, lacerated eyes peering down opaquely at his huddled form.

The harsh calls distorted into singing taunts, "_He'll die, he'll die!_"

With a violet snarl, the demon sprung, plunging spread claws at a milky eye. For a sickening moment, a slick warmth encapsulated his fingers as they slipped below the shallow lids, a whistling scream rattling his skull as joints automatically cricked up, curling around their prize. Then things sped up and the bird was thrashing wildly, clipping its attacker with desperate swipes and snaps. The demon chuckled low in his throat, ripping away from the creature with a chorus of popping tendons. A satisfied grin crept over his lips as he tossed the deflated eye aside, hand slicked with dark viscous fluid that dripped to the plush carpets below.

His tongue flicked out to lick clean the fine spray of blood that had dripped from the hollow socket, savoring the shrieking dismay of the harpy as it fought to regain its sense of balance. High off his victory, Sebastian sprung again, burying lacquered nails into thick plumage. Unable to close around the bulky neck, he found security in the bent and broken feathers, wrenching them down viciously. The bird bent down to his height with a gruesome creak as its spine compressed from the sharp movements. Sensing its predicament, the harpy flapped wildly, curling into itself to try to escape the pressure that threatened to paralyze it. Claws kicked up wildly, making wild swings that easily missed, unable to gauge the distance or position of the scoffing demon.

"_Finally!"_ Sebastian surged up to the palpitating chest, dodging the flurry of smoky feathers and burying his hand into the damp cavity of squelching organs. For a split-second, the demon smelled the perfume he had previously identified, the dusky traces of musk, ambergris, and rose, but then another scent arose, a curious earthy note of orange blossom. But as fingers twitched over the erratic bare heart, twin voices rang out that distracted both parties.

"_Sebastian_!"

"_Ciel_!"

Roused to his rational senses, the butler turned to the sound of his name, quickly calculating the distance of the prince and his butler, judging how quickly the harpy could assault the pair. The air knocked out of his lungs as a hardened beak clamped down over his shoulder, biting through the skin like jagged metal. The demon tore away instinctually with a low growl, once more thankful for possessing all of his limbs. Trailing unsteady drips of blood in its wake, the harpy propelled away from the irate demon, racing through the broken upstairs window with disoriented panic.

Sebastian straightened in place, watching the creature flee as his anger simmered beneath the surface of regained composure. _"Ciel is safe. Our kit is safe. I've protected them both. This time they weren't hurt."_ The sting of his muscle knitting back together made the reality of his victory seep in. _"One more second. Just one, and that thing would be smeared all over the floor. It's still out there, and it will come back. It doesn't have one pair of eyes directing it, but two. We'll have to be more careful than ever."_

"Sebastian!" his fellow butler called in alarm, slowing as he reached his bleeding friend. The demon cupped his palm over his wound, turning slightly so that the Indian would not see the unnatural way that his body was already fixing itself. "You're– " It looked as though the man contemplated the use of the word 'alive' as he looked incredulously between the claw-torn suit and shattered window. "What in Shiva's name _was_ that thing—some sort of Rakshasa or demon?"

Sebastian chuckled darkly at the suggestion, brushing past the concerned butler, every heightened sense focusing on the slight earl that was approaching the group. A trained placid calm was spread across his features, but the demon could scent the pricks of confusion and disbelief that assailed the younger's mind. Instantly, he desired to smooth out the weariness gathered in the corners of the earl's mouth, the tautness in his shoulders that he knew the others couldn't notice.

"It was called a snatcher." Ciel stated, gathering the group's attention. "It was the assassin that was hunting me—the reason we came here was to hide from it. With all the people and pollution about, my scent would be harder to detect." He broke off, and the latent traces of fear surged forward. His single visible eye flickered over to the remains of the window. "But I suppose he found me."

Sebastian's chest constricted as he watched his mate subtly calm himself. It didn't matter that the bird hadn't left a mark on his body, didn't matter that he had protected him from physical harm. Something akin to dread slithered down to a squirming nest in his abdomen. The whole matter might have been avoided if he'd just been a bit more forthcoming. A bit more _honest_. _"Please don't cast me out when I tell you the truth. I can never give you the peace you seek."_

Agni was moving up the stairs to the earl, his master dancing about with determination at the landing. The good intentions were clear enough. _"Please, I can't stand anyone else touching him right now. I'm already forced to be negligent enough."_ Forcing a casual smile he shook his head, tracing the movements of the foreign butler.

"There's no need– ."

"Sebastian, you're wounded." Ciel interjected coldly. The demon paused as though physically struck. "Allow Agni to help you clean up and meet me in the parlor when you're finished. I know you have been keeping something from me, and I want everything laid out on the table for me as soon as possible."

There it was, his faults laid bare before an audience. Shame burned in the back of his throat, and he chased the hurt from his expression as he silently implored a change of order. The earl cocked his chin in defiance, daring his butler to verbally humiliate himself further. But the demon bit back the urge, expelling the conglomerate of dark feelings in one humorless laugh. He dropped his gaze, unable to take the disappointment and distrust that was tangible to him. "Yes, my lord." He replied passionlessly.

"Good." Ciel replied curtly. A pattering of feet proceeded Soma's onslaught of fussing.

"I was so worried for you, Ciel!" he whined, pressing close to the smaller boy. Slipping a hand about the other's arm, he made to drag him down to the lavatory to clean up. "I didn't know what was happening when I heard– ."

"_Don't. Touch. Me."_

The group froze, watching as the earl began to shake. The prince quailed under some unseen force, and Sebastian knew he had seen the contract. He edged forward, feeling the orders he was issued biting into the back of his hand in protest. Another three steps and the seal would start bleeding. Helplessly, he watched as his mate turned sharply on heel and stalk out of the room. Sebastian was sick of seeing that retreating back.

* * *

There was an odd belief (one that was frequently challenged by the fashion forward) that the colours pink and red did not mix. That a redhead, for instance, should avoid the pastel at all costs, else look terribly gaudy. Others flamboyantly paired the two, trussed up like dolls for St. Valentine's Day. Of the later opinion, Cosette figured she would never do again.

She was still screaming five minutes after the creature had clumsily smashed through the window, broad wings clipping the frame and tearing the striped curtains to shreds. It flopped uselessly over the rose carpet, foul smelling blotches of crimson gurgling into the threads. Crumpled feathers molted off its body as it drug itself along by the beak, splicing the fine rugs to bristly ribbons.

"_Mon dieu! MON DIEU!"_ the cries tore through the small house, jostling its inhabitants awake. The harpy emitted a keening whine, collapsing with a spasm of defeated will. The slight woman ran to its side, lugging the monstrous head into her lap and trying to soothe the terror away. Her thin white gloves blossomed into rosettes of coppery brown as she pawed away at the dark mass before her. "Tes yeux… Où tes yeux sont?" she trembled, distractedly straightening the crumpled plumage until at last she came to the cavernous socket where a milky eye used to sit.

She recoiled with a fresh scream, scooting backwards ungracefully with a flurry of stained skirts. The bird slouched to the floor, oozing pitifully onto the shreds of Oriental rug. The entire room was a hideous blur of bloodstained rococo, garishly lit by flickering candlelight. "Désolé, mon bébé… désolé." Without tearing away from the dark scene, she grasped for the phone, whirling in the rehearsed digits.

The sharp trill came from the receiver. _Briiing, briiing, briiing._ Cosette pressed against the wall, trembling knees giving out beneath her weight as she slumped, white knuckled, to the ground. She drug the set down to her lap as the ring carried on, anxiously tracing the little carnations painted on its face. _Crash!_ She jammed the receiver back on its hook, promptly picking back up and spinning the number one more time.

"Hello?" the smoky drawl was quickly cut off.

"YOU HARLOT!" Cosette shrieked, voice catching as she caught sight of the harpy once more. It angled its sightless head toward her as though listening in.

"Calm down, Cosette. I can hear you from all the way in the guest house." There was an aggravated sigh and the soft rustle of fabric as the succubus shifted. "Now tell me what the matter is, love."

"_HE NEARLY KILLED MY BABY!_" Cosette choked out angrily. She couldn't pull away from the dark form now that it had locked its senses on her, pinning her to the spot. Fat tears welled over her eyes and she screwed them shut, trying to escape the tirade of confusing emotions caused by the poor animal. "YOU SAID THAT HE WOULDN'T LAY A HAND ON MY ICKLE SWEETIE AT ALL, MUCH LESS A SECOND TIME! YOU ARE A FILTHY, LYING WHORE!"

"Cosette." Leona replied with a short sigh. It was so like her to cut through the other succubus' emotions like a precise razor. "Please relax, darling. So we underestimated his ability, we'll just have to– ."

A pure rage swelled over the younger succubus, choking out the distorted perceptions and the metallic bite of shock, leaving nothing but the clarity in Leona's apathetic voice. "THERE IS NO 'WE'!" She screamed. "I'M TAKING MY BABY AND WE'RE GOING BACK TO PARIS!" The harpy struggled to raise its head at the news, cooing roughly. As though seeing another reality, Cosette released a loud gasp, popping up and dragging the phone over to the monstrous child. Flopping to her knees, she drug its head back into her lap, cradling it and combing its face with her stained hands. "Ooooh, la… _Maman vous aime plus que tout au monde entier, ma douce. Avez-dire que le chat de vous blesser mauvais, mon b__ébé? Nous allons rentrer à la maison bientôt, mon bébé, pas de soucis!"_

"_Cosette._" The steely voice interjected.

"_Quelle!_" the younger screamed. "What more do you want from me? If you want this done the way you want, you're going to have to take care of the problem yourself, you selfish harlot! It's absolutely ridiculous that you dragged us all the way out here to take care of a job you just could've taken care of when you saw the little slut the first time– !"

"_COSETTE._" Leona snarled, leaving the other to whimper as she picked up the slight cracking of the porcelain receiver. She ducked her head submissively, knowing the other couldn't see the action, and resumed her ludicrous grooming of the oversized avian. "Now," the blonde continued, having regained her composure. "You know as well as I do that these things don't work that way – it is your area of expertise after all."

Cosette could hear the ascorbic sweetness of the words and squirmed in her seat. "Why can't we just kill him?" she whined anxiously. "If the incubus doesn't kill the human himself, he usually just takes off after he finds out. And – and even in those cases they're not stupid enough to try and fight back. But – but my _baby_…" she choked, growing hysteric again. "…He nearly got his filthy paws on my baby's widdle heart!"

"Stop talking like that, you sound like an idiot." The succubus replied coldly. "Obviously we're dealing with someone a bit more powerful than the typical incubus."

The brunette froze, gathering the black feathers to her chest as if fearing they might spontaneously disappear. "You didn't smell_ that_ on him, did you?" she whispered urgently.

"It was crowded, dearest." Came the flippant reply. "I just smelled the scent of cambion in the human – though depending on genetics, it could be possible. You smell it on the snatcher?"

Immediately, the succubus bent over her grotesque child, pressing her delicate nose into the bloody plumage. "Oh dear." She whispered. "He smells like cat, Leona… _Leona, he smells like cat_!"

"Shut up, Cosette." The blonde ordered disinterestedly. "So we're dealing with a half-incubus half-cat demon. That's nothing we haven't faced before." And then a little harsher, "Stop hyperventilating, Cosette."

"_How can I not?_" she whimpered, tearing off the hem of her skirt to wrap about the harpy's eyeless sockets – she couldn't bare seeing them any longer. "We'd have to face him directly, then, Leona – we'd be bringing my baby with us, too. That's… a _thing_ like that is not something to be taken lightly, especially when dealing with its kin." She said vehemently. The snatcher gave a small nudge of agreement, brushing against its mother's stomach. Cosette looked down at it, worrying her lip and offering it her comforts. "Ooooh Leona… Animal demons tend to be _very_ protective, Leona. It's no wonder that he's actually stuck around."

"If you would've done your research like you were supposed to, then we wouldn't be having this problem." The other woman replied curtly. "Look; I'll make this simple for both of us. You go to him in parlay and tell him our conditions: he takes the cambion out of the picture, or we're going to do it for him – and his little harlot will go with it."

"But Leona!" the brunette whined, hitching the bird up closer to her breast, sufficiently smearing her skirts with enough dried blood to make her look like a right Ripper victim. She gave the snatcher a generous pat as it continued its laborious breaths. "Why do _I_ have to do it? You always make me do these things!"

"You know I'm no good with controlling myself." The other hummed luxuriously. "If we want to have this settled peacefully without dragging anyone else into the equation, you're going to have to take care of the social matters." The syrup-sweet voice returned. "That's why you're so good at your job, lovie."

Cosette shifted in her seat, not wanting to give her co-conspirator the satisfaction of giving in so easily. It was so clear that she was being cajoled into the worse parts of the job – and her baby, too, she amended, nuzzling the bird as it drifted to sleep – yet what else was there to do? She looked about the trashed apartment, full of pretty, borrowed things. A doll should stay in its house, after all: Lord knew it couldn't think for itself.

"Fine then," she consented. "I'll go tomorrow. I want this over with as soon as possible, especially if we're dealing with something like _that_."

The Cheshire smile was nearly tangible over the receiver. "I knew you'd agree."

* * *

The soft click of the latch unclasping was the only sound that notified the demon's presence. The sound magnified in his head, a thousand echoing reverberations that he wanted nothing more than to bat away into some oblivion. Being one in possession of many talents, it was rare for Sebastian to genuinely wish himself into invisibility. He could bullshit and flatter through any conversation, he could slaughter any number of attackers with an impressive assemblage of weapons, but the one thing that made his gut seize in unpleasant waves of nervousness was being forced to speak plainly about things that would only result in pain.

When he was young, that pain was a physical one. He had suffered enough 'strong warnings' to become apathetic to the feeling; gloves were meant for hiding whip marks, and ties were meant to prop up the collars dressing the purpled bruises. Perfectionism assured dancing around the number of occurrences, and tonic was made to forget. But Sebastian had grown since then, and he feared a far worse pain by his current master. Were his mind a mixing bowl, the guilt would be carefully folded into the batter, perforating all the other ingredient feelings, just waiting to burst and bleed into the rest. All it would take would be a firm press of the spoon, a finger poking into the wound. No, this pain the demon had yet to learn to deal with. It was too foreign, too human.

Three pairs of eyes drew to his form, but he only felt the intensity of a single sapphire, the holder of which wielded the power to drastically alter his fate. Perhaps it was the peculiarity of the moment, or perhaps it was the heady aroma of chai filling the room, but a singular, unsettling thought filled the demon as he stood on the threshold. The gauzy bandages scratched his healing skin beneath his shirt, the starched gloves raked at fingertips still stained with blood that caked uncomfortably beneath domesticated nails. His heart still trilled for the dying screams of the bird, the lust to avenge was still so intoxicatingly strong. Three pairs of eyes locked on him – three susceptible, weak, vulnerable _human_ pairs of eyes. He could slake his lust in mere seconds; it would hardly be a challenge. Yet he gave them the power to inspire uncomfortable feelings of shame and anxiety in him and freely gave it away.

He didn't want to harm them, had no desire or even an instinctual urge. Once he had sworn never to wear the collar of servitude again, yet here he was once more, content to don the mask of butler. It wasn't just about an end goal; he had come to terms with that quickly enough. He hadn't _wanted_ to care for the boy, and he had done a convincing job telling himself otherwise for several years. But somewhere along the line, duty and desire had blended into one confusing mass. Ciel had given him more than a new identity, but a new life altogether. There was freeness in the fleeting existences of humanity, a delicate sort of grace that fascinated and demanded careful attention. They were all so unique, like painted porcelain dolls that had to be handled gently. There was comfort in escaping the hedonistic landscapes of demonic life, of finding strength in the circles of weaker beings. Even if it meant continuing the macabre masquerade for centuries, he would choose to stay among the constantly changing dancers. It was about Ciel, and in ways it wasn't. With only a few simple words, he could be tossed back out into the fury that he had emerged from. He didn't want to lose every last thing he had come to love. Truly, it was funny how crucial simple words could be.

"It's fine." Ciel said curtly, wrapping up a prior conversation. White fingers clutched at his cup; he was still rattled. He turned pointedly back to his butler. "Now, then. I'd like you to tell me exactly what is going on."

Sebastian distantly felt his tongue working in the dryness of his mouth, trying to pry open unwilling lips. Words. They were tiny things, really. You could string them together like shining beads, arrange and rearrange them to make completely different pieces of art. Some combinations were pleasing, delightful, glimmering little words that made lovely, pleasing sentences. But if those beads scattered and were gathered with good intentions, strung up in a different order, somehow they could become ugly, repulsive things. Context, that burdensome string. Sebastian glanced about the room. Agni returned his look with a calm curiosity while the Indian prince sat crouched against a window, frowning back at him with confusion. They made no intention to move. Words. What he had to say wasn't complex. Sometimes, it was a joyous tiding. It wouldn't be in this context. The anxious guilt in his stomach doubled.

"_Now_, Sebastian."

A soft breath expelled from his lips. With automatic dread, he folded himself into a neat bow and stepped fully into the room. "Yes, my lord." Distantly he tried not to wonder if it would be his last utterance of the phrase.

"Now sit down." Ciel continued, and Sebastian thought that his tone was almost softer. The beginnings of dark lines were forming beneath his young eyes, and the demon felt bad that the conversation was going to rob him of yet more sleep that he – and one other – so desperately needed. Gathering his composure, the demon lowered himself onto an opposing couch, watching with anticipation as his master shifted into a less dignified stance, relaxing into the soft upholstery.

His stomach knotted even further. There was truly no escaping the situation. A peculiar memory blossomed into his head, the dozy, smirking face of the information broker taking shape in his mind's eye. "Opium, see, is like a heavenly dose of nirvana. You drift off and don't feel fear or anger; you're neither sleeping nor awake. It's just a gossamer blank state."

'_A blank state._' He repeated to himself, willing away every ounce of feeling and lingering thought. He wasn't sure what illicit drugs were like, nor was he one to put much stock in human theology, but he was not above sampling their practices. He imagined all the muddling thoughts draining away and – no matter how self-deluded – continued on with relative calmness.

"What would you like to know first, young master?" His voice was softer than he'd expected. Perhaps that was what nirvana was supposed to be like; calm and soft. Unaware of the demon's inner turmoil, the earl shifted in place, arranging his thoughts.

"The arsonists were the same people who sent the snatcher after me, were they not?"

"Most likely." Sebastian replied, relaxing at the normalcy of the inquiry. "I wouldn't see any reason for it to be otherwise, especially considering who your attackers are."

Instantly Ciel jolted upright, eyes narrowing into accusatory slits. "You've known who sent that _thing_ after me all this time?" White knuckled fingers knotted into the couch. "You – ."

"Not individuals." The demon amended, silencing the earl with a raised palm. "But I have a very clear idea of the type of people sending it after you." The musk of Bulgarian roses rippled forward, tinged with sweet feminity and sex, just barely recognizable over the stench of the snatcher. There was only one sort of being that possessed such a scent. "As you may have noticed, my lord," the butler pressed. "The harpy still had a heart. It's not being controlled by anyone."

"Then it's attacking me of its own accord?" the earl shot back slightly hysterically. "That seems unlikely. While the harpy did seem lethal, I doubt that it would be capable of tracking down my largest confectionary supplier and leaving a threatening message."

"The snatcher is a pet, most likely." Sebastian reasoned.

"Under contract?" the Phantomhive asked, quirking a brow.

"No." the demon replied quickly, distaste prickling in his throat. "I'd assume that it is acting out of a sense of loyalty for its owner; since it would not attack you itself given the circumstances."

"Circumstances." The word echoed back flatly. It knocked the air out of the butler's lungs and he wished vainly that he could take back the words, clinging to his last attempts at finding some demonic version of nirvana. "_What_. _Circumstances_?"

Defeated, Sebastian leant forward with a sigh, dropping his gaze. What to say? How to arrange _those_ words? Uncertain how to proceed, he ran a heavy hand across his brow and hair. "I'd have to… it's difficult to explain, m'lord." He said softly. "You may wish to discuss this with me in private at a later time – ."

"Sebastian." The earl interjected sharply, voice devoid of any emotion. "I have been attacked twice by a mythical creature, moved from my home, vomited uncontrollably for weeks, and been the obvious subject of silent conversation between you and a crazed mortician. I want to know. _Now_."

The demon stiffened as the back of his gloved hand prickled; he knew that fingers were pressed over the silken eye patch before his own garnets rose to see the master who held his fate. In the background the Indians shuffled in bewildered interest, completely lost in the entendre-laden atmosphere. Sebastian willed himself into considering them – for the moment – as nothing more than excitable furniture. He wouldn't force the Faustian truth into the open.

"It was most likely the child." He replied lowly.

Instantly Soma perked up, looking about comically like some oversized puppy. "Child?" he repeated, clutching a pillow to his chest with suspicious conviction. "What child?"

"What do you mean?" Ciel pressed, syllables sticking in his throat. The demon dropped his gaze, unable to bear the combined assault of foreign fear and alarmed body language of his mate. His _master_ who didn't even know the term 'mate'. The thought only twisted in his chest; perhaps he was truly sick, indulging in all of these impossible delusions.

"I have reason to believe it was a succubus that sent the harpy after you. It smelled strongly of one." He continued evenly. "They're notoriously… _discriminatory_ of cambions, due to the fact that they believe human blood shouldn't taint theirs. They usually choose to eliminate the carrier and cambion earlier on."

"Camby-what?" Soma insisted, bounding over to his butler's side. It was easier to observe than his own master's confusion.

"That's wonderful, but whatever does that have to do with me –." The words extinguished themselves as sick realization spread over Ciel's complexion. For seconds, the boy scarcely breathed, his emotions a tumultuous assault that filled the demon's senses. Banishing the feeling from his expression, Sebastian drug his eyes up to examine his mate, searching for any small sign of acceptance, of – dare he even think it? Was he really that fool? – excitement or interest. But this, this escaped the realm of human logistics, defiled every form of rightness in their world. The dry laugh that followed only confirmed it. "Surely you can't be serious."

Soma was squawking again, but the syllables just wouldn't fit into words in the demon's ears, drowning out into pitchy sound. There was a scuffle as feet retreated to the door, and more sound that must have been protest. Ciel sat stock still through the entire proceeding, not looking at any one thing in particular. His human heart thudded painfully in Sebastian's ears. _Thud-thud-thud- _The door went _thud_ and then they were all alone. Their eyes met one another, but the words couldn't come.

"You're lying." The earl said at length, strained and detached. Another inhuman laugh tore from his throat, and it raked over them both, the electricity of raw nerves. With that, everything seemed to fold inwards, shrinking away as if burned. The posture, the very scent, everything that was Ciel Phantomhive curled up before the demon's senses, fading out of reach altogether.

"I would never lie to you, my lord." How could words sound so unfeeling when one could feel so desperate? The earl began to shake, disbelief and pain shuddering from him in bitter waves. He needed no physical cage; again Sebastian saw the scared and broken boy from the murky past. He had done this, caused this.

"_You're_. _Lying_."

"There's…" Sebastian swallowed, bound to his seat by the glass wall that divided their ranks, their entire worlds. "I believe there's a biological explanation, but I'm in no position to go into depth about the implications."

A horrified whimper tore from the earl as he battled the barrage of realizations washing over him. It poured from him near tangibly, seeped into the demon's every sense, provoking every urge to comfort, to lick and caress and nuzzle the hurt and fear away. The emaciated boy glared blankly at him, forcing him away. Behind him the real Ciel quivered.

"You…"

"Yes?" the demon whispered, desperate. "…my lord?"

"This." The human said flatly, hand splayed across his abdomen. "This is… yours?"

A third, new pain pierced through Sebastian's body as he gazed between those fingers, sheltering the most sacred being in the demon's entire existence. He peered deep into the single blue eye, that of a young adult whose wounds were deeper than he let on. The being that he loved and craved in so many ways, the one being who he was bound to in both the sweetest and cruelest ways imaginable. The ideal of a mate, of… a family… the things that he had strove for but never figured he would live to achieve, the things that he desired most strongly. A place to belong. Something to covet and call precious. It was all there, all too real. A brand new, white hot pain. Distance.

'This'. It was more than 'this'. A kit. A son. A daughter. His _child_. _Their_ child.

'This' was not nearly enough to encapsulate the enormity of the object.

With a steady voice, the demon sealed his fate in the truth. "Yes."

'This' was all a human could ever see such a being as.


	5. Abisara Echerius

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter Five**

**Abisara Echerius**

_"Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, woes, and troubles. And yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play.__"_

Bram Stoker (Dracula)

The silence hung heavily about their heads. There was something infinite about the moment. The breath had just barely escaped the demon's lips, yet the oxygen felt sucked from the very air, dropping them off unexpectedly into a dizzying height. One glance and everything was out in the open, the moment crystalized in place. Breathless, the butler welled up with apology, feeling the elusive tips of his partner's fingers slip from his grasp. They were only mid waltz, but the band had stopped playing, the air was both crisp and stagnant. The dance had ended.

But just as quickly as it had finished, the melodies of life came crashing back down, leaving the demon feeling at sea and without a partner. In a cacophony of sound and bright clothing, Soma tumbled into the room, lashing out ineffectively with a polished candelabrum. "_Foul beast_!" he howled, throwing the top-heavy decoration in the demon's general direction and missing by several feet. Unmoved, Sebastian watched as the incensed prince groped possessively for the earl, pressing him to his bare chest in what was meant to be a sheltering act. "How dare you impregnate my best friend!"

"Master Soma…" Agni called lowly, re-entering the room. His scent spiked with concern; he, at least, had sense enough not to interfere with the private matters of a dangerous being. "I told you that theory in confidence." He continued pliantly, as if willing his master out of the room. "I don't know the meaning of the word 'cambion' in this…" he trailed off pointedly, looking at the other two occupants of the room. "Situation."

"He used his evil Rakshasa magic to force my best friend to be a host for his demon seed!" the prince bit back with a howl, pulling Ciel even closer to him still despite the other's obvious discomfort. A tanned hand dipped across the clothed planes of the earl's stomach as his tugged him forward, and a growl ripped from the demon's throat unbidden. In seconds, the Indian butler slid forward, hands upraised and fastened over loosening bandages. Agni clenched his jaw in obvious nervousness, but his eyes pleaded the demon to keep from slaughtering the ignorant prince for overstepping his boundaries.

"Get off of me." Ciel said roughly, pushing Soma to the ground. Sebastian relaxed slightly as he watched the display. "You don't understand the situation."

"What's there to understand?" the prince retorted, hysterics replaced with earnest worry. "He – he _defiled_ you!"

The sharp cocktail of indignation and shamed agreement stirred within Sebastian, only to be doused by his mate's retort.

"He did no such thing." The earl said curtly. "I'm telling you: _you misunderstood the situation_."

"Then you allowed him to bed you willingly?" Soma gasped, sitting back on his haunches. Ciel stiffened slightly, smelling as if embarrassed. When he spoke, his voice had grown icier.

"Who said that there was any risqué business going about?"

"You're hosting his seed, are you not?" the prince pointed out, brow creasing in confusion as his butler eased him up off the carpet.

"Master – ." Agni muttered helplessly.

Sebastian reclined in his seat, wishing for nothing more than to disappear into the plush cushions as he worked to massage the tension out of his temples. Needless to say, it wasn't alleviating much. Had he less control over his expression – and the strict years of servitude from his childhood had trained him otherwise – he would have undoubtedly been blushing in frustration and shame. "This has gotten far too out of hand." He uttered with a sigh. "I assure you I have not harmed the young master in any way," the mere accusation made his neck prickle with disgust, "Nor done anything that has not been instructed of me."

"So wait." Soma quipped in an unusual moment of attentiveness. Large golden eyes looked between the Phantomhive household as if processing a difficult calculation. "He… ordered you to get him pregnant?"

"_Who said anything about being pregnant_?" the earl snapped indignantly. The three other occupants stilled considerably, as though suddenly aware how hormonal the pregnant tend to be. Sebastian fought not to physically recoil from the sharp pricks of anger that radiated from his young mate, surprised by the sudden intensity. Soma gave an inhuman whimper and shakily pointed up at his butler, eager to slough off the responsibility of the accusation.

"I… I mistook the meanings of your words, and most likely made a poor translation." Agni replied eloquently, offering a nervous smile and a bow. The benevolence faltered for a split second as he glanced over at his fellow butler, unable to hide the moment of curious uncertainty. "It was foolish of me to mistake Mister Sebastian as a demon – ."

"You were right." Ciel sighed.

Sebastian jolted in his seat, electrified with shock and disbelief. Was _this_ his punishment? He was going to be cast out of the human realm entirely by being revealed? The Indians sat in rapt attention, eyes widened in alarm. And Ciel… no, there was more to it. Sebastian narrowed his eyes as he watched an all-to-familiar blush creep up over his master's cheeks: it was the same theatrical stunt the earl had learned to pull as a child to try and trick his butler into thinking that he was too ill to study or work. "…My lord?"

"I… Soma was right." Ciel breathed, turning slightly from the group. "Because… the truth… it's… I'm infertile."

If Sebastian wasn't so stunned by the sudden show of thespianism, he would have snorted in amusement. Infertile. Not argue the otherwise anatomically impossible feat, not make some lame excuse of weight gain. Were that not a mystery in of itself, the demon was more than aware of the fact that he had just been delivered to safety by the peculiar turn of events. The earl had so many options – each as ridiculous and as plausible as the next – to openly reject him, reveal him, turn him out. Yet he chose infertility. Sebastian was still toying with thought of the lie becoming rumor in social circles – however would dear little Lizzie react? Better yet, her horrid mother? – when Ciel resumed his act.

"You see," the earl paused deliberately, allowing the blush to deepen as he folded into himself with feminine embarrassment, pressing a finger against his lips. Were it not all so absurd, it might have been appealing. "I fear for my family line."

This time Sebastian had to bite his own tongue to keep down the chortle.

"The Phantomhive family has a strange and consistent history of their male heirs dying quite young – "

'_Maybe you lot should give up the Faustian contracts?'_

"Keeping this in mind, I… " Ciel released a small sigh, whether in theatrics or embarrassment the demon couldn't quite tell, "For the past year, my fiancée Elizabeth and I have been attempting to conceive."

Coppery blood filled Sebastian's mouth as his teeth tamed his tongue into submission, chest constricting painfully as he attempted to retain his indifferent composure.

'_Attempting to conceive? As if that weren't scandalous in your culture to begin with! I doubt you know the first thing about a woman's body, my dearest. Really, you have the sexual awareness of a newborn kit. …As though I'd allow for you two to rut anyway.'_

"I knew it was terribly improper of me to invite my fiancée to bed before we were wed – " the younger continued, giving a sad laugh of shame, which was much less forced that the rest.

'_I wouldn't put it past the girl to jump at the chance, as enamoured as she is…'_

"Much less attempt to conceive a child with her… but… in my poor health, I found it necessary to do so." Turning his cheek, he brushed away an imaginary tear – the only salty scent was from nervous sweat – as he continued his woeful monologue. "But sadly, we were unable to conceive a child after many months of trying – and I eventually came to the conclusion that it was my impotence that was causing the problem."

'_Ah, so you _do_ realize, I hope that you have backed yourself into a corner? I'll simply be _forced_ to forbid you from fucking any girl ever just in case your 'impotence' disappears. On that hand, I rather approve of this ridiculous farce.'_

"But… after confiding in Sebastian,"

'_Who else?'_

"I discovered that his demon magic – "

'_Magic? Magic? What the devil kind of being do you take me for?"_

"– Could be used to sire a strong, healthy child with demon blood that would live and carry on a strong, healthy line of Phantomhives."

'_Aaand now they know that I'm a demon. Anything else you'd like to add?'_

"However, due to a contract that I had formed with him when he saved my life on a moonlit night – ."

Sebastian was distinctly grateful for his demon heritage; else he would be forced to worry about the receding appendage of tongue that he was forcefully chomping down upon. Despite the gratuitous amounts of blood trickling down his throat, he was cheered by the fact that he would have more than enough material to make a certain mortician pliant when he next needed information.

"He would only be able to sire this child with me and me alone."

Sebastian chose _not_ to think about the countless young males and females he had snuck off with or had been walked in on during his wilder years. He didn't like considering the possible outcomes of said encounters.

"So I put aside all reservations and asked him to do so."

Soma gazed up at him in teary awe, mouth slightly agape. "How… how _touching_! Such a selfless act is nothing less than I would expect from my dearest of friends, Ciel Phantomhive!" In a flurry of excitement, he launched himself at Sebastian, seizing the man's hands in his own. To the butler, the prince smelled of nothing but mango lassi and betrayal.

'_Didn't you address me as a 'foul beast' only moments ago? Don't touch me.'_

"Sebastian?" Soma prodded. "Is this true?"

Helplessly, he looked over at his master, practically hit in the face with the flood of embarrassment. Ciel gave a marginal nod, and, swallowing down as much damage to his mouth at possible, Sebastian gave a small nod of his own, schooling his features into their most somber arrangements. "It is very true." He replied with forced conviction. "And now others of my kind are after the young master, believing his child –" he very nearly stumbled over the possessive noun "– to be an abomination."

Fresh, fat tears gathered in the corners of Soma's face as he inhaled another dramatic gasp. With a flourish of jingling bangles and embroidered fabrics he launched himself at his butler's chest, striking a bizarre pose that might have been an attempt of heroism. "We must do everything in our power to help protect Ciel and his child from these foul creatures, do you understand?" he ordered with a playful grin. Agni blinked into awareness, straightening from his former stance and retightening his bandages as if awakening from a long doze. Cognizant, he gave Sebastian a brief look of uncertainty before turning pleasantly to his charge. "Of course, Master Soma. I will do whatever it takes."

"Excellent!" the prince beamed, wheeling back in to the room, taking for granted the genuineness of his butler's promise. Noting it, Sebastian relaxed, allowing himself a small smile of relief. Demon or no, his – was it alright to classify as 'friendship'? – with his fellow butler hadn't faltered when it came down to serious matters.

Ciel rose from the couch with a dismissive word, stretching slightly in place. "I was about to retire to my room along with Sebastian." The prince simultaneously wilted as the butler in question perked in interest. "We had some matters to discuss concerning the recent attacks – due to which I am not feeling necessarily hungry."

"I shall set a bowl of curry aside for you." Agni appealed kindly, pressing his hands together as he gave a small bowl. The prince leapt at him, urging him out of the room as though appropriately reading the atmosphere for a change.

"Don't bother them!" he huffed jovially, bouncing down the hall in front of his butler. "Leave them be – ." But the rest of his sentence was drowned out by the distant shutting of a door. The solitary sound was enough to shatter the pretenses in the air and Ciel growled out a sigh of frustration, pacing over to the nearest wall and bracing his forehead and hands against it resolutely. Unable to quell his amusement any longer, Sebastian rose as well, smoothly gathering to his master's side.

"What exactly are you doing, my lord?"

Small thumps of the earl's head tapping against the wall punctuated his reply. "Killing myself," the Phantomhive replied dryly. "I would assume there would be better ways of going about it, but smashing my head into a bloody pulp against this wall seems like an appropriately painful and effective method considering the humiliation I have just subjected myself to."

A wry smirk curled over the butler's lips and he watched the pitiful scene. "I disagree. It was a … how would you put it?" White gloved fingers pressed to his lips as he rifled through the list of human colloquialisms he had accrued over the years. "A 'good save'? Despite the expression, it was clever – and more importantly, Master Soma seemed to buy it without question."

'_Then again, he seems to buy just about anything without question, doesn't he? Were it not bound to come back around at some point, he could have very well cured my boredom with the amount of absolute bullshit I could have been feeding him these past few days.'_

"I couldn't very well hide it forever." Ciel replied in exhaustion, turning from his half-hearted suicide attempt to face the demon. His shoulders sagged and for the first time that night, Sebastian felt the layered walls of defense lower. The amusement melted away as he gazed down at his tired mate, lovingly caressing the other's jawline and tilting his face upwards by the chin. There was a warmness in his breast, and he knew that there was one thing he had to know no matter where he would find himself or how removed he would be forced to be.

"So you intend to go through with it?"

It was less of a question and more of a gentle supplication. Ciel stiffened at the words, hazy sapphire searching his butler's features for the desperate hope and support that the demon allowed through. He faltered, scent softening one second, then closing off and crystallizing the next. He jerked his gaze away from Sebastian's, shutting down whatever gentle thing had grown within him, leaving the demon with a sinking feeling.

"We've already gone this far, haven't we?"

Blinking back the hurt, Sebastian allowed his hand to drop away; it was impossible to try and force past the mental barriers the earl erected, he'd only chase him farther out of reach. Still, he held on to the vague hint of hope in the single word, 'we'. 'We' meant something. It meant that there could be an 'our' or an 'us'. He nodded to his own conscious delusions, humming in agreement. "I suppose." He offered neutrally. "But with the way things are, the frequency of the attacks will only worsen. They've discovered your whereabouts in a populated, polluted city that would be nigh impossible for any lesser demons to track you in. If we were to move elsewhere, it would only be a matter of time – ."

"We won't run."

Yet again, 'we', dancing about boastfully before the demon's hopeful ears. He still had – for the time being, at least – a place in the Phantomhive's life, and perhaps even (though he dared not think it outright) a place in the future life of their child. The intensity of Ciel's conviction seared through him, and not for the first time, he transformed into an older being before the demon's eyes.

"I refuse to bow to the whims of whatever lowly being that has chosen to make me their target. I may be…" he paused uncertainly, edging around the words. "_Incapacitated_, but I assure you, Sebastian, that I am far from allowing them to trample upon me. We will meet their advances head-on."

There was a fluttering in the demon's chest – three 'we's could not be a mistake – as he listened to the short declaration. No matter what the lord could devise for him, no matter how far he was forced to retreat, he would never forget the evening's moments, the passions and convictions that they in some way shared. The fleeting notion that there was a togetherness in the resulting actions, that on some level he had been accepted and allowed to stay within the earl's life even when it seemed so certain that he would be thrown out. A soothing warmth spread through him: there was still some sort of future for them, no matter how short or blackened and twisted. They were corrupted souls doomed to constant misfortunes and thrown into the fatal dance that they themselves accepted.

Ciel padded forward towards to parlour door, leading the butler into yet another number. "What I said before about retiring to my room was far from a lie." He said sheepishly. "I… I am actually quite exhausted after this evening's ordeal."

Sebastian held wide the door, admitting a small smile of affection. Even if it left him bloody and broken, he would continue the macabre dance until he could deliver the peace that the earl thirsted for. He would give anything – everything – to satisfy those desires, to avenge those pains that he now felt within his own chest; he would destroy every last thing that inspired pain or fear or humiliation within his mate. But for the time being, he was contented to be the lapdog, the shepherd of safety that the Phantomhive so desperately needed. He followed loyally after the drowsy earl with gentle admonitions.

'_You're so slight, darling; of course this has all been strenuous on you. In time, your energy will wane even further. Our kit will need as much as they can receive.'_

A genuine smile that went unseen by Ciel spread over his face. "As to be expected."

* * *

The stress and unfulfilled questions of the day hung back in the shadows of the room, watching with rapt carnivore attention as the earl clambered into bed and the candlelight was snuffed out. It waited for silence to descend, for the mustiness of dark to settle, for eyes to readjust. Sebastian sat in stillness upon the edge of his master's bed, staring sightlessly to the floor. He felt the cruel observer as it winged in towards him, possessing him with their thoughts.

He had yet to receive a solid answer. Would Ciel keep their kit? And if not – gripped tight by his worries, he could not wriggle beyond the possibility – how would he chose to get rid of it? Humans could be horrid in their own right, and in their inability to conceive of the darkness of the demon world, they birthed far sicker creations. Would he settle for the humiliation that would come with calling for a doctor? Would he risk the rumors? He certainly didn't care about his reputation, or, rather, what positive scraps were left of it. Would he take a drug? Imbibe in something poisonous to the small being within him?

'_We've come this far, haven't we_?'

The words replayed again and again, and with the attention of a surgeon he dissected every little part, examined their roots, and stitched them back together again. It was cryptic, woefully cryptic. Did the 'we' truly have significance? Was he simply reading what he wished to see? There was no definite answer. He felt like a prisoner awaiting his sentence.

It wasn't his choice to make. It wasn't his place. It wasn't his right. It wasn't his body. He was hopeless, utterly hopeless. As a demon, he had once held the leisure to come and go as he pleased, to fuck and drink and kill and steal if he wanted. When he wanted. It didn't matter – _nothing_ mattered. But the apathy was a bitter drink, living as the dregs of the world. So he had pursued something higher, something beyond himself. And found himself bound in servitude yet again. A fickle, petulant young master. A boy with a vendetta that couldn't be dissuaded and a shredded sense of self preservation. The demon had smirked and scoffed, had ruined things on purpose just to enjoy the reaction, said things to see the shock. But the living being beneath the exterior craved to reach out: to comfort and seek comfort. There was something rare and precious within Ciel Phantomhive that he had never before encountered in any other being. There were still the remnants of innocence and kindness; those emotions that the damaged boy chose instead to hide around others. There, too, was perseverance, a diligence and maturity not befitting the fragile and emaciated body. Yet most remarkably was the loyalty and undying love for the honor of a family that could no longer offer him shelter or support.

Sebastian couldn't remember his own parents; he had never thought to seek them out, either. He was a demon, and demons were despised. One kept their head down and hoped not to get killed for insolence. He had no interest in learning the gruesome end his own received. If he had ever had the chance to understand familial bonds, it was toward an old woman that he scarcely remembered. She had wrinkled and veiny hands and when she smiled small crow's feet forked at the edges of her eyes. He remembered her laughter, and he remembered her tears. His first masters told him that she was too poor to care for him any longer. The black market for young demon servants was lucrative, after all.

Sometimes he wondered if he had ever truly been a child at all: quiet, obedient, fearful. Were those truly the attributes of a child? It hadn't taken long for him to grow spiteful, distrusting. He had seen the world of his people, and that of reapers. Had seen the cheating, the (occasionally literal) backstabbing, the heartlessness. They had all taught him: no one loathed their relations more than reapers, cats were hated because they could take more than one mate, spiders killed their partners and children. 'Family' was no more than a generalized term that carried no more weight than 'rug' or 'dirt'.

Then boredom and disgust had led him to Ciel Phantomhive, the child who fought for the honor of the deceased. For his _family_. Meeting the earl was like relearning the world inside and out. Things had different meanings, had different weights and scents and smells. They were both muted and brilliant: the limitations of humanity had recoloured everything with a fragile beauty. Weather could bring upon illness, flowers and butterflies were painted as things of beauty, riding horseback could bring both fatigue and satisfaction. All the millions of events were admired, analyzed, annotated. There was a beauty in the way humans appreciated.

Family had a different definition. Individuals watched out for one another, cared for one another, tended the sick and the old. They cried over another's fears and pains, went out of their way to defend or protect. Cared for and sheltered their children with their very lives. There was a selflessness in this sort of 'family': something far more immortal than the agelessness of demons.

Some small spark of wonder had ignited in Sebastian. The walls of the world he knew had crumbled down and things weren't as shallow as he had first believed. There was always another option, another definition, another emotion. There was the chance for him to recover the things that he had never had, to call another 'family' and feel affection along with it. So he delved into the richness of the human world, ardently worked to uncover its layers and secrets. Yet the closer he got to comprehension, the more answers he craved and the more his demonic palate dissipated.

Desire had led him to the trough, spite made him drink, but curiosity made him stay. He was no longer certain what he would do when the contract drew to a close. There were too many complications. And now a kit on the way. Their kit. Did he even have a right to claim parentage? The idea tasted bitter on his tongue. He had fulfilled an order: had escaped the punishments of disobedience, the biting pain of the seal on his hand, the slow bleeding out, the constricting of his organs little by little until they burst. He had shown neither cruelty nor affection; one he could no longer execute towards the earl, the other he was hesitant to show should he be pushed further away. He was a demon, yet he was tamed. He was a butler, and so he was ruled by boundaries. There was no room left for the feelings and opinions of an individual, those rights were stripped from him the second he had entered into the contract.

He truly was a prisoner.

Sheets rustled behind him, rousing him to the present. The insecurities scurried back into the shadows, chased away by his present concern for his master, who had sat up suddenly, hands curled about his head. The demon watched his mate a moment, taking in the feelings of anxiety and frustration. His chest twinged uncomfortably, pressing the hands that wished to console more firmly against his lap. _"Why must you be so cruel, my love? You teach me about what is precious to you, and then rob me of the chance to experience it._"

Ciel brushed back a lock of hair absentmindedly, eyes trained on his knees. "Sebastian," he whispered. "Lay beside me." He paused, licking his dry lips. "I want you to sleep beside me from now on."

The demon froze, almost too shocked to feel elation. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Wordlessly he rose and removed his vest, choosing to keep his gloves as he slipped through the buttonholes. Toeing off his shoes, he placed the folded garment upon a chair. He could feel the earl's eyes upon him as he moved about, loosening the topmost buttons of his dress shirt.

After a moment's silent deliberation, he slid under the sheets, deciding that lying on top of them would prevent the earl from cocooning as he was recently apt to do. Ciel settled back down into their warmth, rolling back over on his side, lids already fluttering shut. Sebastian allowed himself a brief glance of the beautiful and worried face before lowering his own eyes. The linens, although fresh, clung with the familiarity of Ciel's scent, the soft hint of sugared éclairs only further sweetest by pregnancy. Within a month or two their kit would develop its own scent; the demon smiled to himself as he imagined what it might be like.

A child of ambiguous gender filled his mind, rosy cheeks still chubby with baby fat but undeniably possessing the delicate bone structure of the earl. Wispy hair encircled its face, ebony black and soft as down. Beneath dark lashes peered crimson eyes, subtler than his own and possessing the warmth and emotion of its biological mother.

Drowsily Sebastian opened his eyes, lulled to calmness by his own dream and the shallow breaths of his sleeping mate. His lips fell into a despairing smile. _'Will you grant me this?'_ He wondered, fingers crooking forward. Gently, he extended his hand until it cupped the warm flesh of the slightly distended belly. The earl sighed in his sleep, shifting ever so slightly to allow the demon access. The smile became lit with affection. Gingerly, gloved fingers rubbed small circles over the clothed skin, pads massaging the sensitive bulge. He had caused it; a restrained sense of pride filled him at the thought. His caresses grew gentler.

As sleep came to reclaim him, he let his palm rest against his mate's abdomen, whispering softly, "May I be your father, little one?"

* * *

Sebastian rubbed the sleep from his eyes and patted his hair down in to submission, fighting down the embarrassment that threatened to colour his cheeks. He had meant to be up hours prior, as was his custom, yet it seemed that the warmth and comfort of the bed had seduced his senses far too thoroughly. Agni, for his part, kept his benevolent spirit and had decided not to question why he had walked in on his fellow butler asleep beside the earl.

Biting down another shamed apology and the desire to justify himself, the demon tried once more to assess the situation at hand. "A visitor, you said?" he prompted, glancing out a window to the lightening sky above. The blankets of gray morning were receding to the canvas of pinks and blues. "Who on earth comes to call this early?"

"It's a mystery to me as well." The Bengal butler frowned. "Her cabby walked her card to the front door, but they're simply waiting out by the coach; I put it in the receiver out in the foyer. They seem…" he trailed off pointedly, eyeing his friend. "Well, _different_. I thought it would be best if you could evaluate the situation."

"You mean to say that they aren't human?" Sebastian queried. The other man blushed almost instantly.

"Ah, I meant that in the nicest terms possible, Seb –."

"I know what you meant, and it was a valid concern." The demon replied coolly. His tone softened as they turned into the front entry. "You heard for yourself what I am; I know you've been suspicious of me in the past yet even now you choose not to act any differently towards me. For that I thank you."

"Of course." Agni smiled, pausing by a circular table crowned with a bouquet of daffodils. "It is an adjustment, I admit. But… you are still the same Sebastian as ever, are you not? I would still like to consider you as my friend." They exchanged appreciative looks and the butler indicated towards a metal tray. "There's the card I was talking of; what do you make of it?"

Sebastian picked the thing up: it was gaudy, as far as his aesthetics were concerned, but undoubtedly connoting both wealth and power. Fluffy pink fringe clung from the cards edges, a luxury only afforded by the most socially elite. Its face was intricate, as society mandated of aristocratic humans – Sebastian, for his part, was thankful that the French invention had never quite caught on in the demon realm; he could only imagine the sort of ornamentation his kind would choose to decorate their calling cards with.

Carefully he examined the wreath of printed flowers: lilacs, roses, and forget-me-nots wound together in an ornate wreath. In their center was a scene of a pond with cattails, along whose surface floated a majestic swan with pure black feathers. Beneath was a banner with French written in a curled hand, "Je te penserai à."

"I think of thee." He translated under his breath. His fellow butler crowded in as he lifted the wing of the swan to reveal the name of the caller: Mlle. Cosette Madeline Brun. A scent as smoky as sin clung to the scrap, and beyond it the human senses could pick up the spritzes of her perfume, the earthiness of neroli and thyme coupling with a sweet orange flower. Assaulted by the isolated scent, Sebastian realized that he had encountered it before, slicked into the plumage of the snatcher, overpowered by the scent of roses and decay. So here was the other succubus.

"What is that?" Agni asked, recoiling from the pungent paper.

"Eau de Mille Fleurs." The demon replied, closing the scrap and glaring at the card. "It's a popular brand of Houbigant; it's rather clever of her to cover her scent that way."

"Her… scent?" the Indian echoed, careful not to sound offensive. "Is that something you can… do? Detect scents?"

"Mnhmn." Sebastian hummed dismissively, noticing the bent upper corner. "How kind of her to denote that she came in person." he scowled, stepping over to a large window. Parting the blind, he examined the sleek black buggy parked just before the manor's gates. Inside sat a loudly dressed woman with delicate features, curly brown hair falling down in wisps from beneath a ridiculous feathered hat. She turned to her cabby, unaware of her onlooker and said something that made her laugh shrilly. The driver appeared to grumble to himself, tugging his suit over his paunch and walked around the side of the cab to stroke the side of an elegant Welsh Cob. The horse shook its giant head, unnerved by the touch it couldn't see around its blinders.

Sebastian drew away from the window with interest. _'I'd have suspected a young man done up in leathers. Collared, too. Didn't want to scandalize the poor humans, did we?'_

"What are they?" Agni asked, watching the other butler from the foyer table. The demon immediately saw the tenseness in the man's shoulders, the worry creasing the corners of his eyes.

"She's a succubus, undoubtedly." He began, chucking the card distastefully back in the receiver. "But her cabby is a human; you can tell because they're using a horse."

The Indian blinked in confusion at the awkward statement, but said nothing.

"I don't believe that she means any harm, otherwise she would have just attacked straight off. However, she is being… insistent. This matter has to do with the young master and myself; I would not worry about it were I you. Do your best to keep Master Soma occupied in the meanwhile. I don't anticipate any trouble for now."

The two parted ways, both preoccupied with their own thoughts. Sebastian slipped back into the bedchamber undetected; quietly going about preparations for this master's awakening. The curtains were tied back, the brushes cleaned, collars pressed. The black leather boots propped up in the corner were laced with ribbons of garnet satin and the day's outfit was laid out neatly against the armoire. Sebastian had just returned from the washroom when Ciel began to stir, and inwardly he lamented the fact that he could not at least have tea and toast on hand for his mate.

A firm knock at the door stole the attentions of both of the room's occupants; the earl jolting awake with confused interest. Sebastian inclined his head towards the door, scenting a mingle of mango and chai before turning back to the washbowl. A thin smile pressed to his lips; Agni knew better than to intrude on his duties, meaning only that Soma was awake and eager to launch the day's activities. It was hard to remember that the energetic prince was already twenty.

"Master Ciel?" the foreign butler persisted.

The young man in question blinked blearily up at the demon, wordlessly supplicating an explanation. Sebastian sighed, dropping his hand from his hair as small droplets of water worked their way to his scalp. Feeling relatively groomed, he leant in towards the window, gesturing for his master to look.

"It appears we have a visitor." He said, watching calmly as his mate clambered out of bed to peer out beyond the curtains. A small note of panic came from him, and the demon stilled, attempting to send as much subconscious comfort as possible. When Ciel spun around, eyes searching for clarification, the butler continued. "She doesn't seem to be looking for trouble." He placated, expression turning darkly sweet. "I assure you that if she was, there would be a great deal more blood."

The tension in the earl's shoulders fled and he scoffed, disregarding his butler for the other just out of sight. "I'm awake, Agni." He called, completely composed. "I'll be out in a moment, I need to dress. Please go out to escort our guest into the parlour."

"Of course." The other replied agreeably. Sebastian could hear the light scuffling of two pairs of feet as Soma tried his best to surreptitiously follow his butler.

"Do you think she'll be willing to cooperate?" his own master asked from the bedside, bare legs swung over the edge as he secured his eye patch as best as he could manage. Sebastian hummed, placing the clothing from the armoire over the bedspread. Its dark blacks and reds stood out against the plush linen, simple lace already pressed into immaculate pleats. It was a selfish thing, his choice in the outfit. The style was simple, yet elegant enough for receiving company, the jacket tailored into crisp, masculine lines. He hoped it would be enough to convey the things he wouldn't be able to say. The colour scheme matched his own, the deep garnets boldly declaring the blood connection between them. They were bonded together, and Sebastian wasn't willing to let the succubus see any room for separation.

Pulling on his gloves, the demon gently extracted his mate from his nightshirt, folding the thin garment and setting it aside. Easing woolen socks up to their thin garters, he contemplated the question. "We'll just have to wait and see," he answered lightly. "Though I assume you figured that she was not hostile, seeing as you invited her in, young master." The quirk of his brow earned him another scoff, and he folded the resulting warm feeling into himself out of Ciel's view. A bluff to hide the embarrassment; he had trusted Sebastian to protect him despite his own anxieties.

Sebastian continued his work in comfortable silence, folding in the edges of the dark dress shirt as he fastened the trousers at the other's waist. The gentle scent of pregnancy swelled from the still flat abdomen, lingering on the demon's gloves as he arranged the clothing into proper alignment. He straightened before the young man, amused by the clumsy way the eye patch had been secured, nimbly straightening the strings. A soft blush grew across the earl's face as he keened ever so slightly into the gentle touches of Sebastian's fingers combing through his hair.

As though remembering himself, the teen jerked away, the blush only deepening. "Don't touch me so easily…" he grumbled without conviction. He turned his head and flumped back down onto the mattress; Sebastian knew the body language well enough to look away, kindly sparing his master further embarrassment. "Is there anything I should take into consideration when talking with this…?" he broke off pointedly, extending a leg as Sebastian bound tight the lacing.

"Succubus." The demon supplied.

"Succubus." The younger echoed. The fear trickled back, married with a sense of awe. Sebastian pursed his lips into a grimace. There was still so much for his young mate to learn.

"And yes," he continued, slipping on the second boot. "You should make no threats towards her unless she makes any towards us or –." The choked back the remaining words, eyes flickering down to rest over the earl's stomach.

_"Or our kit."_ He finished internally.

"The most important thing would be for my lord to hear her out; it could very well lead to a favorable compromise."

_"Although I've yet to meet a full-blooded succubus worth trusting."_ He silently amended, setting his teeth to keep from growling. Unaware of the demon's inner turmoil, the young lord eased off the bed with a nod, trailing after his butler as they set off down the hallway. From the second he had opened the door, the other being's presence had stolen over the demon, pricking his blood into a frenzy. Sex, incense, and opiates – the basic scent of all succubae – danced up to assault his senses, tendrils swirling about his body, ushering him closer. Coy subconscious tricks that had never worked against him.

Worriedly, he glanced down at Ciel, searching for signs of enchantment behind his composed façade. There, the dilated pupils, the tremulous heartbeat, the same sound of a cornered infant hare. Hands subconsciously brushed across arms, trying to fight the illusions of cold. Sebastian clenched his jaw as they approached the drawing room. The succubae – Cosette, the card had read – was toying with them already, using just enough charm to summon them forward; any human in the household would feel that she alone was the one source of warmth and livelihood.

Already he could detect her trilling laughter doused in pheromone and Houbigant perfume. As he clasped the door handle and swung it open, ribbons of heat blossomed forward as though they had stepped out into the brilliant spring sunlight. Master and servant entered, letting the door click shut at their heels.

Opposite them sat a luxurious red loveseat with clawed chestnut feet upon whose cushions were perched Soma and his unusual puppeteer. She was a delicate looking creature with porcelain pale skin, made paler by the soft shades of brown and coral she wrapped herself in. Her laughter brought a blush of pale rose to her cheeks, her small nose wrinkling in amusement. The spotted feathers of cocks clung about her breasts, edging the hem of her bodice, and when she inclined her head in conversation, the soft curls of her hair slipped down between the cleft of exposed flesh. She drew a teacup to her painted pink lips and the prince's eyes followed as though drunk on the sight alone. He mumbled something incoherently and she giggled girlishly, pulling the china back down before her in a way that belied her true nature. As though pulled along by a string, Soma followed its descent, watching the swirling amber contents that were then nestled between the succubae's generous assets.

The woman turned in her seat and beamed at the silent pair, the picture of Victorian perfection were it not for her unsettling disregard of blatant objectification. "Oh, la!" she called with a gentle French accent. "There you are Earl Phantomhive! I was just telling young Soma about my experiences in the French countryside. Lovely selection of tea, by the way!" She smiled once more, gesticulating with her teacup in slightly less gentile manner. "Please sit, please sit!" the brunette begged appealingly, blushing as she indicated to the surrounding furniture. "Don't mind me, I feel awful about imposing."

Sebastian forced a smile as her gaze swept over him, their eyes meeting for a tense second before she continued on in her girlish manner, replacing her cup to its equally miniature saucer. There was nothing to suggest sharp wit nor cruelness in her grey eyes, and the demon relaxed infinitesimally, knowing at the very least that she was the pawn of the two unusual huntresses. _"Shall I shoot the messenger?"_ he thought to himself wryly.

"Mademoiselle Brun is visiting on behalf of her benefactress." Soma announced, as if answering Sebastian unvoiced queries. He blinked owlishly – blithely unaware of his suspiciously askew vest – as though thinking very hard before gesturing to the earl with a cup of his own. "She said she had business to attend to with you, Ciel?"

"Oooh, la! No, no," the succubus cooed, blushing again. "It's perfectly fine to call me Cosette." Soma turned to her and chuckled shyly, once again intent on her every move. The demon watched through narrowed eyes, uncertain whether the female was an unusually good actress or genuinely flustered by basic decorum – though, given her specie, he figured respectful etiquette came few and far between. Her smoky eyes turned to Ciel and he stiffened, fighting the urge to place himself between her sway and his mate.

"Why don't you have a seat here, young earl?" she called invitingly. "It would be a pleasure to warm up to one another before we get down to business."

Sebastian felt the younger's hesitation, no doubt unaware of the imperceptible way the woman shifted her elbows towards each other as she leaned towards him, feathered hem tickling the swell of her breasts. Warm up to one another indeed. Ciel shot his butler a glance, as though asking silent permission. Clenching his jaw until the nick of fangs brought coppery blood to his mouth, the demon gave a curt nod, fixing the succubus with a warning glare all the while. With uncertain steps, the earl padded over to the empty space on the loveseat, folding himself on to the cushion. The simple act brought a trace of amusement to the tense butler: in ways, the teenager was still very much a virgin.

Cosette stretched a little, rolling her spine more than necessary – a move not unnoticed by the far less innocent Soma – and parted the feminine black lace ascot that hung from a choker at her neck. "Is it warm in here?" she asked vapidly, fanning herself with a hand dressed in fingerless gloves of the same material. "I'm feeling a trifle warm." A murmur of assent followed her statement during which Ciel shuffled awkwardly in his seat. The demon watched intently, thankful for the lasting sobriety of his mate.

"Now, as I was saying," Cosette prompted conversationally. "This tea is absolutely delicious. Peppermint, if I am not mistaken?"

"The finest that London has to offer, my lady." The demon replied, a divine feeling of power and rage stealing over him. He could feel his pupils flicker, the backs of his eyes burning with pricks of demonic energy as the urge to react entirely on instinct alone dominated his rational mind. It was rare that he felt so deluged by his blood, a product of the rawest emotions and desires; it frequently won him his way, among other things. For a brief moment his aesthetics danced on the razor thin edge of wanting to fuck the woman and wanting to rip her into thousands of fleshy, unrecognizable bits. She quirked a mirrored smile in reply, letting her eyelids become heavy and heady. A manicured finger reached out to toy with the fan folded neatly in her lap, drawing the tip along the contour of her thigh, creasing her skirt in its path. The image of an innocent girl fell as resolutely as the familiar shush of discarded clothes, a sultry woman with a honeyed voice emerging as she tossed back her sausage curls and pressed her breasts together before him.

"How delicious it is." She crooned huskily, allowing her accent to thicken as she inclined herself further over the coffee table, bodice slipping centimeters lower and lower. A devious smile curled over her mouth as she pulled the teacup beneath wicked lips. A single bare finger rasped over the golden rim, dipping ever so slightly in and out of opening. "I would expect no less from a… " She parted with a giggle that rolled her body forward. "A _butler_ of your caliber. I do wonder what other services you have to offer, rather than just preparing tea." With lusty eyes locked she parted her lips with a swipe of pink tongue, tracing the interiors with sinful promises before sipping down more hot fluid.

From where he had relocated across the room Soma released a pained whimper, watching hungrily with every intent to chase the soft appendage regardless of company. Ciel recoiled from the woman's side, unaffected by her wiles. Disgust rippled from him, combined with hints of an emotion Sebastian had scented on demonesses whose mates had wandering eyes. He noted the white knuckled fists that were balled around the fabric of trousers and the way the earl's mouth had flattened itself into a terse line. Curious, he continued the charade, addressing the woman who held no more sway over him than he had over her.

"I apologize deeply, my lady." He sighed, masquerading a woeful expression. It quickly evanesced to a sinful grin that pinned the suddenly attentive earl. "But I am afraid that my other services are strictly for my master." The mysterious emotion – could it have been envy? – disappeared, quickly replaced by embarrassment as Ciel turned his head to avoid the demon's intense gaze. Cosette giggled charmingly, suddenly evoking the spirit of a young girl yet again as she nudged her tea back on to the coffee table.

"Which is exactly why I am here today." She smiled, as though implying the arrangement of a croquet match rather than the potentially brutal desecration of a sacred pregnant vessel. She directed her attention towards the prince, giving him a winning look. "Soma, darling, I don't mean to be a pest, but would you be a love and give us some private time?"

"U-uhm. Okay." The young man nodded, eyes glazed over in dozy ecstasy. He rose from his seat languidly, moving a few steps before pausing and blinking at her with vague confusion. Sebastian inwardly groaned and wished his fellow butler the best in dealing with the intoxicated Bengal.

"Go, lovie." Cosette urged, flicking a single digit towards the door. Soma jerked as though physically displaced, nodding with a dopey smile like he had just been promised her accompaniment in exchange for her compliance. With one last wistful glance at her assets, he closed the doors behind him. Sebastian exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relaxing in an atmosphere significantly less populated by pheromones. Cosette, too, eased in her seat with a dainty sigh, fixing her expression with yet another innocent smile that were growing more and more unsettling.

She whirled around the face the earl, cupping a palm above his knee and giggling as he withdrew from the intimate touch. The corners of his lips curled into a sneer, but the succubus paid no mind to his disgust, patting the soft interior of his leg with wandering fingers. "Oh, don't be that way." She said beguilingly. "I can tell you're unsettled, you really should relax."

"Why should I?" the earl retorted, glowering as he wrenched his body away from the woman's touch. Filled with indignation, he pinned back his shoulders, looking the spitting image of the youthful man whose portraits filled the mansion. Sebastian allowed himself a small smile of wonder; Vincent would be proud of his son, and the undertaker, he knew, would as well. The fierceness of Ciel's tirade continued. "You enter my estate uninvited and attempt to treat me like an old friend when you sent your pet to murder me just a day before. Why shouldn't I be unsettled?"

"Well!" the slight woman huffed, tossing back her head and crossing her arms beneath her breasts in indignation. "So much for attempting to put you at ease. Though I shouldn't be surprised. Carriers are usually impervious to the charms of others of our race. It's all because of that lovely little beastie inside of you."

A swell of infinite rage crashed over the demon; the blood filling his mouth had no doubt stained his teeth and he could feel the protesting pops of seams where gloves gave way to the merciless intent of elongating claws. Every muscle in his body strained and ached, begging him into action, yet he remained placid, willing his face into an unreadable mask that he had learned to adopt so well under the heavy hands of his first masters. He would endure. So long as she made no move, he would endure. He was, after all – blood differences aside – no more than a butler, and it was his duty to remain as such until enacted by his master to become the lethal weapon he truly was.

Ciel's eyes were upon him: whether they were begging for support or for direction, he was uncertain. He returned the look with utmost calm, refusing to blur the lines of their already tangled relations. He noticed the hand cradled over the teen's belly; the subconscious act of a true mother. He felt his heart beat off kilter as it warmed to the image: 'beastie', 'ingrate', 'monster', 'wretch' – they were terms he had learned to ignore altogether. Growing up as the servant to aristocratic reapers – a class of being superior to his own in every societal and capable way – he had become accustomed to such curses and had been labeled with far worse. For the first time he felt the protective wrath that came with being a father. He could bear the hatred of others, but he'd be damned if he allowed his own child to endure the same depreciating experiences. The conviction stung more when he knew how uncertain his own role was in their kit's future.

_"Endanger my mate, bitch, and I will happily litter this room with your carcass. You will not steal from me those which I love, and I will kill whoever it takes to protect our child."_

He bored into her grey eyes just long enough to make her shift uncomfortably before addressing her. "It was the reason you came here, was it not?" He could taste the poison slipping into the otherwise neutral words, or perhaps it was simply the copper tang of blood. Truly, he was blessed with genetics that allowed him to brutalize his poor tongue without consequence.

Cosette scoffed at his inquiry, turning from him nonetheless as though unnerved by the intensity of his glare. "You really should sit down; it makes me terribly uncomfortable when people stand about." She pointed her fan towards an opposing couch, fingers buried in her curled locks. "_Vite, vite s'il vous plait!_"

The demon tensed, refusing to obey orders from anyone else, particularly not from a vapid French nymphomaniac. Yet his legs strained from withheld energy, so he inclined his head to his mate with a pleading expression. With near exasperation, Ciel waved him to the couch and so he went to it, elegantly seating himself upon its cushions. It was an improvement from his prior position, but still much too far from the mate he yearned to protect and comfort.

"Now!" Cosette chirped, clapping her hands together. "First and foremost I would like to apologize; my benefactress and I agree that we acted rashly in the face of your situation. It was not our intention to come across as … _assertive_."

Sebastian snorted quietly. _"Bullshit."_

"You pet bird nearly impaled me." Ciel interjected flatly, clearly carrying the same sentiment. "Twice."

The succubus winced and genuine hurt crossed her scent, causing the demon to lift a brow at the unusual reaction. She, too, reacted in the way an offended mother might. "Be that as it may," she continued anxiously, "We were not attempting to end your life. We decided it would be much easier for everyone to take the cambion out of the picture. You see, they're a notoriously tricky sort of breed –."

"_You_ decided." Ciel interjected crossly. He rose from his seat, chin aloft as he glared down at the woman. "I apologize Mademoiselle Brun, but I believe what I do with my… _cambion_," he supplied awkwardly. "Should be my choice and my choice alone, rather than that of a complete stranger – however _benevolent_ their intentions were." He finished, crossing the room to settle in his regular armchair, arranging himself maturely with his face resting speculatively over a loose fist. "Though I hardly believe you were merely trying to take a load off of my back. The idea of the blood of your esteemed kind mixing with that of a lowly human's disgusts you, does it not?"

Instantly Sebastian surrendered to his own cruel amusement, delighted in the wit and observational prowess of his mate. Together they watched the succubus squirm and blush, irritation and shock swirling in her enlarged eyes. "So direct…" she muttered, fingering the lace of her fan as though genuinely perplexed how to proceed. "You've backed me into quite a corner here, Earl." She said, voice cold. In a second the sugared tone returned, climbing in octave as she repossessed the role of an ignorant young woman. "I hardly wish to sound rude, but I believe you've hit the nail on the head – it's nothing against you personally! If anything, I'm doing you a favor! If anyone else of our kind were to sniff you and your little darling out, it would be quite messy. We don't condemn your relationship in the least," – the sneering tug of her lips suggested that mutts were indeed fine with other mutts – "Merely the presence of the cambion – it was our intentions to eliminate it without the human public becoming aware of our presence. You see, many don't accept these sorts of _lasting relationships_ between a human and one of our kind – it's quite vulgar, really, the things they've done – and neither you nor the cambion would survive the ordeal."

"'_Lasting relationships'_?" Ciel scoffed, and the demon couldn't help but recoil a bit from repulsed tone of his mate. "What are you implying, Mademoiselle Brun?"

The woman froze, blinking and looking about like a startled deer. She sent Sebastian an imploring look, only to be met with smirking apathy, and turned towards the earl's equally indifferent façade. She paused a moment, frowning down at the gloved hands that folded and unfolded in her lap, worrying her skirts and fan. The demon could tell she was scenting them, perplexed when she confirmed the scent of matehood on the younger. "W-well, I was merely assuming that since you've kept the child this far, and your…" she waved her hand vaguely towards the butler. "Your… _friend_ has remained by your side without abandoning you, that you were in some sort of – you know, besides your lovely little contract that is all too apparent due to smell –."

"Well, you know what they say about assuming, Mademoiselle." Ciel interjected coldly, straightening in his seat. Instantly the woman reddened, deeply embarrassed despite her own improper nature. Her hands balled into tiny fists and she grappled for words. "Y-you embarrass me so, Earl Phantomhive. I implore you to stop your teasing."

"If I may say so," Ciel smiled darkly. "I'm not teasing in the least, ma'am." Sebastian watched with interest as the earl twisted before him, the first reactions to the child's blood taking hold as a heartless laugh shook him. The succubus edged away from him, and the demon wondered what fate would await her when she returned completely humiliated and empty handed. "Apart from your apology, Mademoiselle, for what else do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

"Well," Cosette replied hesitatingly, attempting to regain her dignity as she built herself up. The dress slipped lower down her torso, exacerbating her already top heavy proportions and the hair was falling out of its pins in wispy chunks. Glossy eyed with lips worried pink from nervous teeth, she uttered out, "I was here to present our terms."

"Terms?" Sebastian repeated, returning the phrase with a thinly quirked brow. "And, pray tell Mademoiselle, what would these terms be?"

"My benefactress and I agreed that you two have exactly two weeks from today – that's November the fifteenth, dear heart –" she noted, sniffling into a handkerchief fetched from somewhere within her bodice. "Two weeks from today to come upon a decision. The first: you can personally eliminate the cambion and we will leave you two be as long as you promise that _it will not happen again_." She finished with surprising force, smoky eyes hardening to cool slate as she calmly refolded the square of linen.

The earl faltered at the sudden change in her mood, feeling perhaps for the first time the true danger of the chained hurricane at his side. "And the second option?" he queried.

"My benefactress as well as myself and my pet will personally eliminate both you and the cambion." She answered coolly, rising from the loveseat and brushing imaginary contaminants from her skirts. When she rose her head to look at the pair, the illusions of amiability and gentility vanished, replaced by a sneering lip and irises heated with contempt. "No exceptions." She grit out. "We do _not_ allow such vile spawn to taint our race, _good Earl_. I assure you that if you send anyone to attack myself, my benefactress, or my _darling_ little harpy that the parlay will _end_. It won't be only your life on the line, my _dear_." A crazed light flickered back through her features and the room grew slightly warm as she repossessed herself. "Your friend Soma is purely human, is he not?" she crooned, running a hand girlishly through her silken hair. "And I'm fairly certain you have a lovely little army of fragile human beings back at your larger estate, correct?"

Beaming victoriously, she crossed the room with dancing little steps, collecting a luxurious fur stole and feathered hat from their location on the rack. Sebastian smiled down at her, pleased by the small jump of surprise his sudden change in location inspired in her, taking the effects in to his own hands. "Allow me, Mademoiselle." He indicated with all of the grace of his position, swinging the heavy mink about the succubus' tiny shoulders. "Master, I'll show Mademoiselle Brun out to her coach." He explained before addressing the woman directly. "If you'd follow me?"

The woman elicited a delighted gasp, latching on to the arm he offered her and stepping through the door he held dutifully open. "Finally, a _true_ gentleman! I still have no idea why someone such as _you_ would stoop to an agreement such as _this_ –." Deliberately, the demon shoved the door closed behind them, sparing one warning look over his shoulder for his mate not to follow.

The latching of the door brought the woman closer to his side as he turned her down one hallway and along the next. "Honestly, though." She pressed, turning bashful eyes up to his stoic expression. "What benefits can you possibly hold in a human wasteland such as this? The promise of one, delicious, well-earned meal? Why, without all of… _this_ –." She said, waving grandly to the approaching foyer. "Well you'd be free as a bird, wouldn't you? A true demon, untethered by obligations and redundant, demeaning chores. Think of it, dear heart, of that freedom. You could have your pick of meals; reapers these days are so careless, it's nothing to pick up dinner on the way to a club or a theatre. Why, I was on my way to the opera just the other night and –."

"I have no interest in souls." The demon cut in, whirling his partner down the stairs. "Not any longer, at any rate. It is not a choice I intend on amending, either."

"A-ah, la, well…" the succubus blinked, taken aback. "There's more to it than simply that, of course." She added, voice turning to a subtle purr. The butler pulled open the front doors and they stepped out together – still in the mockery of a dance – into the November chill. "These _humans_, they can't possibly understand you… they certainly can't _placate_ you, now can they? That earl-pet of yours, he's rather cute, but he still has _such_ a long while to come in to his own. A pretty face, but he's still only a child; you need a partner more suited to your needs, more generous and giving, more… _experienced_."

The demon turned his face down towards hers, subconsciously aware of the charming toxins she was emitting, her receptive body pressed intimately against his own as they made their way through the front gardens. He paused them, regaining control. "I'm not looking for a dispenser in which to slake my lust."

The succubus pouted coquettishly, extending her body towards him, the feathers of her enormous hat tickling the contours of his face. "You hurt my feelings, dear butler, and here I was only trying to help." Her lips perked into a coy smile at the demon's clear irritation.

"Explain yourself, you're talking in circles." He demanded warily. "What is it that you want _now_?"

"Don't be that way." Cosette insisted, caressing his cheek with a gloved palm. "Your anger only makes you more appealing, and we _are_ in public." She allowed her lids to droop, voice rumbling to a sultry alto. "Say what you wish, honey, but the truth of the matter is, you need me. That useless mate of yours is too stubborn to take a good deal when he sees one – you don't want the fate he's chosen for himself and that precious abomination of yours, do you? I can see the tenseness in your shoulders; let me work that out for you. _You_ can solve this all yourself, you know: become my benefactress' butler and we _promise_ to leave your broken little toy and his welp alone. Well, for a time, that is. You'd all win that way."

Sebastian released a small growl and turned from her grasp. Cosette laughed airily and trotted up to his side, cocking her head to the side as she studied his stormy features, fingers languidly inching along his spine. "You know it to be true, dear heart. You would get the freedoms a being like you deserves _and_ your petty little human won't die. My benefactress and I complete our mission and get to enjoy your company… and oh how we'd love to enjoy your company." She crooned, molding to his chest. "So what do you say, mn? Won't you join us?"

Sebastian gave a humorless smile, wrapping his hands about her frail arms until the tips of his claws snagged at the fabrics covering them. The succubus quirked a brow in lucid amusement, trying to decipher the intent in his ruby eyes.

"Allow me to illustrate, _Mademoiselle_. You interest me just enough to be fuckable; your innocent act is as annoying as it is appealing and let's face it, you don't take much convincing for a man to have his way with you. But there is one thing that you are, and that is crystal clear: a threat. You are making the very ignorant and arrogant decision to cross me and my family and have aligned yourself with a mistress who cares no more what happens to you than the table scraps she pushes around her plate at the end of a meal. You are disposable, replaceable _trash_. This pitiful attempt to work out a one sided bargain on charm alone just reveals you for what you are: vermin. You should keep in mind that I am also the butler of this household and this family and it is my duty to eliminate any pest that creeps past the threshold in any way that I see fit. Trust me, _rodent_, should you wander into my claws again I will be more than happy to remove that obnoxious little voice box of yours cord by cord. _Do I make myself clear_?"

Cosette stared back, pale face drained to a ghastly puce. "Y-you!" she snarled, shoving the butler away from herself with alarming force. "You absolute _wretch_. You _will_ rue this, mark me, you will regret your very words!" The demon righted himself as he watched with building satisfaction as she stormed off to her buggy, sharply dealing curses to her driver.

Content, he pulled his vest back in to place and turned on heel back towards the direction of the house. Ciel stood plastered to a front window, and even without the physical barriers, he could feel his mate's swirling jealousy and confusion. "What did she say?" he demanded, as though the words alone willed the demon back in to the parlour.

"Nothing of value." Sebastian sighed dismissively. "The only thing that comes out of that woman's mouth is useless drivel. She was under the impression she would be able to make some sort of backwards deal with me in order to secure both your life and the child's." he amended truthfully. It was days of such caliber that drove the demon to seek out the small stash of saké the former steward had kept hidden in their office, no matter how small his tolerance was. He nearly groaned aloud at the realization that his day was only just beginning.

Ciel fidgeted at the unfinished narrative, anxiously knitting his fingers together. "And… what did you say?"

"I refused, of course." Sebastian shrugged. Reality perched upon his shoulder, nipping him with its sharp teeth and forcing him to recant. "Unless my lord would –."

"No." the teen cut across, staring fixedly at the checkered tile. Fear was interlaced with determination as his hands unhinged themselves and dropped to his sides, ever so slightly passing before his abdomen. The act was enough to banish Sebastian's perception of reality and a spark of hope ignited in his chest once more. "We won't succumb to their frivolous _deals_. Absolutely not. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian grinned as he folded himself neatly on one knee, not overlooking the glorious return of the simple expression 'we'. "I shall do everything in my power to fulfill your wishes concerning this situation, whatever they may be."

"Good." The earl replied simply, signaling for the demon to rise. Satisfied, he turned to exit, shoulders set a little straighter. Sebastian watched from afar, filling with pride at his mate's determination. Emotion caught in his throat. From afar. He was always doing everything from afar. For what purpose? Imaginary lines drawn by society? By their own fears of pain and rejection? He was sick of just watching.

He paced forward, gently capturing his mate's shoulder in his hand. "And what might those wishes be, my lord?" he implored. Ciel froze, heart racing. He never looked back, nor did he shrug off the small act of affection. It was more than Sebastian could hope for. The next three words sent his heart soaring.

"I'll keep it."


	6. Talicada Nyseus Clean

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter Six**

**Talicada Nyseus**

_"_The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful._"_

Oscar Wilde (_The Picture of Dorian Gray_; Chapter 2)

Water dripped from bare hands as they stroked the surface of the bath, beads rolling from the slender fingers with soft _plinks!_ of escape. There, the fluid rippled, circles blossoming and spreading to the edges of the porcelain tub. Each ringlet grew, fleeing from the next, caged, but always escaping capture. It was epitomical of the recent days.

Sebastian observed the pitiful circles from the side of the ornate bath. He was tired of running. He had been doing it his whole life, masquerading the calm and collect, the candour. He hadn't really been any of things, merely a stray cat escaping one gruesome end after another. When he had escaped the abuses of his first masters, he had ran. Fending for himself, he had turned to pilfering, and he had ran. Sheltered in the company of hostile demons, he had ran also. Ran and ran until he had wound up exhausted, inaffable, at the doorstep to Ciel Phantomhive's plea. Gladly he had risen to the call and turned his back on a past he wanted only to erase.

Ruby eyes flickered up to the silent teen a mere meter away. He sat wrapped loosely in a towel, visibly naked and gazing into blank space. There was a hollowness about him that couldn't be explained; the emptiness of a condemned man. The demon yearned to peer inside his mind, to sort out the labyrinth of thoughts and questions. He could all too clearly envision the way the smaller male would start at a gentle advance, face turning into a scowl. _"Don't touch me so easily!"_ he would retort, withdrawing more than just his body in towards himself. It had been the same for over four years. It made his heart clench just to think of it; on some level, he was still not trusted.

It was pitiful, perhaps, the way he had come to conduct himself. Half the time he felt like a pining cat, winding its way between its master's legs, preening for attention with displays of possessive affection. But Ciel seemed just as allergic to the creature itself as to Sebastian's good intentions, and pushed both away without hesitation. But love was a cruel and curious thing: no matter the number of rejections, the demon always came faithfully back, eager to try again. Somehow he had come to derive a sick form of happiness simply from being at the boy's side, even if he were no more than an executor of desires.

Requital, now that seemed out of the question, but it did not dissuade him. There was a shallow future in a mate and kit, even if he could only share in small fragments of their lives. He was all the same guilty of fantasy – the earl wrapped in satin and veiled in tulle; taking the tiny hands of his child as it toddled its first steps; slipping off together to the woods with other demon children as they learned to hunt; lounging beside his mate before the sea with their kit scouring the pebbles excitedly for shells – but he was quick to clear the pervasive images and focus on whatever task lay before him. They were only fantasy, after all, and nothing confirmed it more than the teen's new state of resignation. That grudging acceptance pained worst of all.

"_Tell me, my lord, what life it is I'm on now: no matter the number, I will gladly lay it before your own. Can't you understand just how precious you are?"_

But Ciel, of course, gave no notice of the demon's supplications and continued to gaze expressionlessly into the steamy air of the bathroom. With a sigh, the demon finished his preparations, bottles of product measured out beside combs and a sponge. He went to stand and paused, struck by an idea. Pawing beneath the clawed tub, he withdrew a small silver bucket filled with excess supplies. Tiny glass vials clinked at the bottom and to his satisfaction he saw that they weren't broken. They had been a present from some noblewoman that they had unintentionally helped months earlier while working on assignment from the Queen; why humans fetishized soaps he could never understand, so he had stored the products for later usage. He recalled a social the earl had hosted at his main estate early on in his service. It was March, and the dresses of the ladies had bubbled out with pregnancy. _"Bath oils prevent unsightly scars and marks caused by distention, you know."_ They chittered to one another.

Sebastian had never anticipated his odd habit of eavesdropping to come to much fruition, but, grateful, he took a vial of rosemary essence and poured it into the cap. It looked a bit like olive oil, but infused with the warm water quickly; the demon scented the herb, recalling its properties. _"It warms and relaxes muscles and relieves fatigue."_ Again, he glanced up to his master, who gave no notice of the world about him, a hand pressed to his abdomen. _"At least you continue to let me take care of you – I've no idea how the devil you'd survive alone."_

"The bath is ready, my lord." He called softly. As though deaf, the teen didn't stir. The demon waited a moment or two before attempting again. "My lord? Will you be coming in?" Ciel turned vaguely to face his butler, blinking like he had just realized that he was not alone. With a sigh, Sebastian scooped the earl up in his arms and gently deposited him in the water before he had time to protest.

He began with a washcloth, drenching the square and lathering it with a fresh soap carved into the shape of a rose. With tender hands he cupped the earl's cheek and washed his face, moving slowly down along his chin and to the sensitive curves of his neck. He could see the tiny scar his own fangs had left at the base – proof of his fealty as mate – and brushed over it, too, delighting in the minimal reaction the touch received. With the utmost care he exchanged towel for bare fingers for warm water again and again, willing the stiffness and unhappiness away.

Sebastian could see the signs of maturation every time he bathed the earl: the tension in his neck, the gentle broadening of his shoulders, the slight firmness of his chest and ass. He was no longer a child – certainly not by demon's standards, either – and undeniably beautiful. Pride bloomed in the demon's chest as he groomed his mate, drawing the sponge across the teen's back in steady swipes. Society was noticing him more, truly drawing the earl into their fold. Men and girls alike whispered about him in their own ways, and there was a universal belief that he would grow into the stature of a typical Phantomhive. Even the Undertaker had noted with melancholy satisfaction how much he had come to look like his father. Despite the prior nobleman's brutal end, Sebastian had taken such tidings to be a good thing: in all manners, the majority believed his mate to be filling his destined lot in life. He was bound to be as successful as his predecessor, if not more so, as he already had a knack for the industry. So long as he kept his peculiar second life a secret…

Before the demon realized, the bath was over and he was washing away the final suds. He pulled Ciel from the tub with practiced ease – was he a bit heavier than before? – and wrapped him in a towel. Gently, he dried the earl's body, caressing his mate through the cloth with as much removed interest as he could muster. He dressed him for bed in a similar fashion, ignoring the fullness of his thighs as he slid underwear up his hips and the subtle arch of spine as the nightshirt slipped down graceful arms and torso.

It was torturous. He had encountered more than a fair share of his own kind to know that his relationship was stunted. Most mates lay together throughout the beginning of their bond and all throughout pregnancy. There was constant nuzzling, caressing, and sex. All affectionate actions of the gratitude and acceptance of both parties: the desire to make their matehood clear to all others. Sebastian yearned for such comforts.

Dutifully he plumped the pillows and folded down the comforter, unsurprised when his master made no move to curl up under their warmth. He flitted about the room wordlessly, folding away excess linens and setting aside shirts and laces to press in the morning. The fireplace was extinguished to cold embers and the curtains unlaced from their holdings and drawn shut. Still the earl had not moved, sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Sebastian collected the silver candlestick holder from the dresser, turning to his master. Silhouetted by the pinpricks of fire, the hunched form looked just as he had years before on the demon's first night of service. An unresponsive, gaunt husk of a boy.

"My lord?" the butler plied gently. "Are you alright?"

Eyelids flickered; the teen had recognized the words. Slowly, the heartbeat accelerated, the blood trickled to the limbs, awakening the sleeping muscles and veins. As though emerging from a dreamless trance, Ciel stirred, turning marginally towards his butler. "Yes." He mumbled, voice dry. "I'm fine."

Sebastian hesitated. It wasn't the first time he had witnessed the mental relapse. Fatigue, injury, stress – it all piled and mounted until the earl was forced to bend under their pressures. Until he could sort out his own thoughts, he was no more than the shattered boy with the hateful eyes. "Can I fetch you anything?"

"No."

"Should I leave the candles here?"

"No."

"…I'll cancel your appointments for tomorrow."

"Fine."

"…Good night, my lord." Said the demon quietly. The earl turned from him, glancing sightlessly in another direction, the gossamer of thought winding its way back around his head. Sebastian expelled a soft sigh and passed his hand before the fire, expelling two of the candlesticks. Giving up, he slipped from the chamber and retreated down to the kitchens to find Agni sitting alone at a table nursing a cup of chai.

"Evening, Sebastian." The butler called, unperturbed.

"I'm surprised you detected me." Sebastian replied lightly, approaching the man from behind. A small fire crackled in the brick hearth, lighting the broad room with warmth. Agni turned towards the demon, drawing his gaze.

"The second landing creaks a little." He explained. "Prince Soma has trained me to listen for it; I can't tell you the number of times I've caught him trying to sneak in here."

Sebastian gave a soft laugh, throwing wide the cabinets and staring vaguely at their glimmering pans and sheets. "You have good hearing for a human." He commented, pulling down several bowls and a tin of sugar. "That's a lucky skill." The man hummed in agreement, carefully watching as the demon set about the kitchen, preparing an area of granite countertop and rolling up his sleeves.

"Especially now." Agni added. The demon gave a small grunt in reply, spreading his workstation evenly with flour. "We should fence again sometime, though I doubt you need the practice."

"Ah, but it's not a bad suggestion." Sebastian smiled, whisking the contents of a bowl together. "You should be proud of yourself, you matched a demon."

"Mn," the Indian frowned. "But you probably didn't use your full strength, did you?"

"Not at first." The demon admitted. "By the end, however…" he shook his head. "As I said, you're an equal match. You shouldn't be so nervous."

"It's not for myself that I'm worried." Agni replied softly. "I trust you to protect Master Ciel with your very life – you've never shown any intention of doing otherwise, at least – but I care for him, too. Not just him, either… Not to say that Master Soma isn't adept, but… we are still just humans. I've seen enough to understand the fragility of a life's existence. I couldn't bear it if such precious beings were stolen from this world."

"You're a good man, Agni." The other remarked, an odd half-hearted smile on his lips. "You can appreciate that which takes others hundreds of years to discover." He lapsed into silence. The other butler blinked in surprise.

"And what thing would that be?"

"Love." The demon said simply. Again they fell quiet, the human watching his friend with interest as he set about pie making. The dough slapped on the counter, was expertly kneaded out into a round, and sheared. Thin strips braided into intricate latticework, nimble fingers marrying them together. There was a bizarre sort of weariness about the demon as he set to his work.

"Something troubles you." Agni hummed, narrowing his eyes in worry.

"Is it that obvious?" the demon sighed, giving the rolling pin an accusatory look.

"Come, sit by me." Agni answered by invitation. "There's more chai on the stove, it should relax you."

Giving his scraps of dough a despairing look, Sebastian parted from the counter, collecting the spiced tea in a mug and sliding on to a barstool. He could feel the other's eyes on his bare hands; traces of flour could not hide the natural black lacquer of his claws, nor the scar of the contract carved into his flesh. He allowed the curiosity, trying not to feel like a specimen. Fingers drummed on the thick ceramic of his mug and he expelled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"It's been stressful lately." He said, not looking at anything.

"That's a given." Agni replied calmly. "It's much more than these surface conflicts." When the silence enveloped them, the butler continued. "It's about the child, isn't it?"

Sebastian swallowed thickly. The child. It was the first time someone had spoken of his kit in that way. Not a beast, not a monster, a child. Something tiny and precious and fragile. "What do you mean?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper.

"It _is_ yours, isn't it?" There was a slight nod. "I'm not asking for explanation, but I know this has nothing to do with Lady Elizabeth. I highly doubt she is even aware of the current… circumstances. I know the look of a man that's lain with a woman," he smiled a bit sheepishly. "He may no longer be virginal, but he's certainly never been with a female. He hardly knows how to interact with one."

Sebastian cocked a brow. "You seemed fairly convinced during his little show the other night."

"For Master Soma's benefit!" Agni laughed. "You must not think ill of him; he's just a very innocent person. From what I can tell from his stories, he hardly had a mother to instruct him on the ways of the world. He simply enjoys believing in the fantastic and romantic."

"That's kind of you."

"I feel you would do the same for your master." Agni returned, quieting. "In ways, you are now, aren't you? As I said, this child is yours – that can't just mean nothing to you."

"He's decided to keep the kit." the demon said. "But… I have no idea how he will wish to explain it to his… fiancé. Or to the Middleford family as a whole. I suppose… Lady Elizabeth will be the one to raise it."

"But it's not something you've discussed together, correct?" the other pieced together. "What is it that _you_ want, Sebastian?"

The demon turned, wide eyed. "What I…?" He dismissed the idea with a firm shake of his head. "That's of no consequence." The plethora of distant fantasies tumbled to the forefront of his mind and he shut his eyes to them. "The reality of the situa –."

"It is important." Agni interjected. His voice was firm, but his pale blue eyes held their same kindness. "I child isn't the product of one person alone, it's the result of a sacred union. There's no shame in being a part of that, and it's clearly affecting you. What are you running from?"

Sebastian froze, the words dying in his throat. Running. He was always running. He had accused himself of it mere hours before. An unpleasant thought uncurled in his belly like a snake. Did it make others see him as a coward? Did it _make_ him a coward? He stared at the Bengal butler with all of his patient benevolence. Where did such a man draw his strength from? He could freely explain himself – even to the point of melodrama for the sake of his master – without a second thought. He had no fear of his own emotions, or the power they could hold over others. Others… His brow creased slightly, recalling the other's words.

"…_but I care for him, too. Not just him, either."_

Could it be he got by on mere faith alone? The trust in other beings? 'Love', Sebastian had said. That was the element that Agni possessed for others. The demon dropped his gaze, tentatively lowering the gates to his fortress. He had come to learn to be self-reliant, independent to the point of apathy. He didn't reveal his thoughts to others; he had been content with cordial relationships, mutual sorts of friendships. But to put trust in others, to give them the tools to harm him? Certainly, he considered himself close to Ciel, but he had never just opened up to him either. The only individual that came close would have been Undertaker, peculiar as their relationship was.

Agni waited in amicable silence, swirling the contents of his mug. Truly, there were so many others around the demon. He'd never really noticed; he had always been the backbone. "I…" he began uncertainly. "I would rather be a part of their life. But… I don't think that will be granted to me. I have no experience, and I probably lack the affection, but I want to be the child's father. Not just in blood, either… I want to know my child. I want to be a part of their lives."

"Their?"

"Ah…" the demon broke off. He hadn't meant to say such things aloud. Still, he had to give Agni's way a try. "Yes, 'their': the kit's and Ciel's."

"More so than you are now?"

"…Yes. As… " Inexplicably he dropped his gaze to his cup, filling with shame. "As a family." The words sounded even more preposterous out in the open.

"Then I will pray for your dream to come true."

"Wh –? …Why?" Sebastian faltered.

"You've heard my story." He said quietly, staring into the contents of his chai. "My life now is one of repenting. I regret the things I have done in my past; the hedonistic and truly barbaric way that I allowed myself to act and treat others. I was once a Brahman: anything I could possibly want was only a breath away and so I came to appreciate nothing. I suspect you and I are not so very different."

Sebastian stroked the side of his mug and cocked his head in interest. His fellow butler met his gaze and gave a small smile. "I had everything and nothing: colossal power and influence, but no love. Then Prince Soma came in to my life when I most needed him. He literally saved my life and brought to it a warmth and hope that I had never imagined. He gave me a name and a home. He gave me a purpose." His face heated and he dropped his gaze, letting his voice quiet. "How could I not love him?"

Sebastian blinked in surprise. It wasn't beyond reason, given the playful way the two interacted, the physicality of their relationship. It was enviable, in ways, the amount of comfort they displayed towards one another, even in the presence of complete strangers. They hadn't been brought together by obligation or bitterness, but by compassion. Agni had been granted a rebirth through empathy and love; Sebastian, too, had been rechristened to a new life, but to one drenched in blood and hatred.

"You said we are alike." He murmured. "How do you mean?"

"Surely you can answer that for yourself." Agni returned, still flushed. "I may not have known you for long, but I have seen the change in you. You've become someone better just for knowing him. He's inspired something within you and in return has grown to trust you and rely upon you. Now I know you to be a demon and after all this time, you've still stayed by his side. There's more binding you to him than a covenant… do you love him, Sebastian?"

There was no hesitation. "I do." The melancholic smile returned.

"Then you have to tell him."

"Tell him?"

"I mean it." Agni insisted, placing his fingers against the back of the demon's hand. "I may not know the details, but I understand enough to see that you're both in grave danger. What if – and I pray not – something were to happen? Death or separation… don't leave something like this hidden. Don't risk having regrets. At any rate, he needs you right now, even if it doesn't appear to be that way. He's strong, but he cannot bare this burden alone. Promise me that you will confess? It's so hard to see either of you in pain."

"Only if you do the same."

"The sa –?"

"You said yourself that we are alike." Sebastian pointed out, but the gentle set of his eyes calmed the other butler. "For your own sake, practice as you preach. You have a lot of wisdom, yet you still endure the pain of your own emotions? You're a selfless individual – if anyone deserves to find their happiness, it's you."

A loud crash from upstairs stole whatever words Agni was planning to say from his mouth as both butlers sprang from their seats, exchanging tense looks. "You should make sure that Master Ciel is safe." The taller said apprehensively. Sebastian nodded, sharing the images of the monstrous bird, feeling his blood turn to fire. And yet, he couldn't detect a single thing wrong within the manor.

"He's probably just having a fit." He muttered, walking to the door nonetheless. "Promise me." He said louder, turning to his companion as he slipped on his gloves.

"Ah, our situation isn't as ba –."

"Promise."

"Alright, I promise." Agni resigned good-naturedly. "Now go, won't you? I'll clean this place up, just go and check on him."

The demon bared a quick grin and bounded up the remaining stairs. As he had suspected, there was nothing amiss within the household. Gold and silver statues of deities he didn't know the names to sat calmly in place like patient guardians. He filed past them, surveying the immaculate shape of the foyer, same as he had left it after one of his patented quick fixes. The scent of both the harpy and the succubus seemed no more than a bad dream. He had begun to make his way up the grand staircase when he heard his name and the contract prickled to life.

The bedchamber was cool and dark and the butler automatically regretted his lack of prior attentiveness. The last thing he needed – or wanted – was for his mate to fall ill while their kit was still just beginning to grow. Concern twisted in his gut. There was more than that, he knew. There was an odd tension about the room and as he materialized to human eyes, he caught sight of the mirror across the room. An ugly scar ran across its face, distorting everything it beheld into broken shapes.

Quietly, he bent himself into his customary bow beside the bed. The frame creaked and sheets rustled as his master bent forward – he had been sitting up with his eyes trained expectantly on the door when he first arrived – then the anxious licking of dry lips. The electric tingle of nerves melded with the sweet pitch of hormones, a cacophonous blend that swelled with lust but also fear. The demon frowned down at the carpet; the earl was balancing on the precipice of words, yet something had restrained him. Some fit had possessed him earlier – the mirror was evidence enough of that, no doubt the very sound he and Agni had overheard – but whether it was one of fear or anger he couldn't identify. Moreover, what had collided with it? He hadn't smelled blood, so surely it wasn't a fist. Neither was it a – but Ciel had taken the plunge and emitted a simple sentence shocking enough to drive further thought from the demon's mind.

"I want to have sex with you."

Instantly, Sebastian's head snapped up, eyes locked with the dichromatic pair. They were wide, startled by the mouth's traitorous words, and colour was already rising on his pale cheeks. Tenseness settled into his muscles, his entire body frozen like a terrified rabbit, hearting thrumming wildly in the demon's ears. The emotions he had tasted on his tongue intensified: he had drunk from the cup to find it nothing but poison.

Lust. It was all merely lust. Desire brought about by their developing kit, the foreign blood drugging the human's fragile system until he craved as demons did, yearned for the accompaniment of his mate, the physicality of a relationship. But merely that aspect, the physical embrace. The earl couldn't even hope to comprehend on his own the emotionality that was tied to his position, the sacred nature that came with matehood, the affection that couldn't help but to bubble up every time one caught the other's scent, every time they shared a room, a bed. There were none of those things. Just the clinical, carnal need for satisfaction. Anger coursed through the demon. Had the words and actions of his mate's captors driven out every shred of trust within him until he truly would let no one near to him?

"_Then you have to tell him."_

The anger quickly dampened, replaced instead by shame. The earl had made it impossible for him to voice such feelings; he had finally fallen for another: a beautiful, damaged mortal human who could not reciprocate the emotions he held for him. The invitation hadn't been an improvement. Rather, it was just another harsh reminder that the demon was only envisioning the things he wished to see, to experience. There was no genuineness in the situation. He was a butler, and immortal. He had no business entertaining petty fantasies.

"If…" he began, dispossessed of feeling. He could see the hand stitched pale blossoms of hemlock in the brocade of the bed skirt. He could feel his master's eyes upon him, but he couldn't look away from the fabric. He hardly felt physically present. Who was speaking? The voice sounded like his own, and yet, he felt no connection to it. Everything continued to play and unfold about him – surely someone should have lifted the spindle on the gramophone?

A hand that didn't quite feel like his settled on the earl's exposed knee. It held a gentleness that he felt too heavy to really possess. The brush against skin cooled the pads of his gloved fingers, sending a chill through him, as though a piece of his own soul – if that was what his state of consciousness was tied to – had trickled back to him, released from the grip of the other who didn't know he held it. The demon licked his lips, forcing his jumble of thoughts and non-thoughts to arrange themselves out in to words.

"If that is what my lord wishes."

"I…" the earl began meekly. He coughed out a small laugh and traces of the dead tone from That Night came back to him. "I do."

No, Time was no healer.

"Then –." Sebastian murmured, unfurling himself from his position on the carpet. A flat palm halted his action, the teen behind it flooding the butler with his sense of self. There was no expectant façade, nor critical eyes. A curtain of ashen hair fell across the downturned face, humility and humiliation alike wrapped as tightly about him as his blankets. The hand wavered, the precious heartbeats increased, the breaths slowed. Somehow it was much more comforting than the scene before it. Now there was something truly wondrous and delicate and human.

"But." The earl began, no louder than a whisper. There was a soft exhalation and a humorless smile captured his lips. The voice strengthened, "But there's a reason I wish it." The breath hitched, strength waning as the final wall tumbled down about the teen's shoulders.

Sebastian stilled as everything did, the sounds and images blurred, soft thrums of heart and lungs no louder than the distant lulls of an ocean's waves. There was only he and Ciel. The cracked mirror watched them from the sidelines, reflecting in shattered directions the two individuals. They stood on a precipice of existence and the next seconds would alter them forever. The demon wanted to hold the moment, keep it from passing, from slipping through his fingers. He wondered how many other scenarios the mirror held, how many other Ciel's and Sebastian's stood before it, how their moments played out. But the transitory seconds washed over him, intangible.

"I love you."

The words were coarse: quiet and blesséd. The purest ecstasy crashed over Sebastian, filling the extent of his being with impossible warmth. He could scent the beginnings of tears, yet he ached only to embrace his belovéd.

Ciel looked up slowly, the most beautiful pain upon his face. "I wanted you to know that I wanted you to love me in return. And that," his lips pressed together, determined not to let the convulsions of grief escape. "Is why I asked. Please leave."

Wedded joy and sorrow flooded the demon as the contract enacted immediately at the force of the demand. Fingers caressed for the briefest of seconds and then he submitted, disappearing from the room, able only to watch as his mate descended into the personal Underworld of his own thoughts.

* * *

The study was swathed in rich swags of emerald and bronze, a fine coat of dust frosting over the glimmer of velvet. To a human, the room was tar black with night, but as Sebastian shut the door behind him, he beheld the splendor of the unused office. Motes drifted through the musty air and he batted them casually away from his face, inhaling the old scents that still lingered on the furniture. Anguish flitted in the back of his mind: he knew Ciel must be crying and yet, an order was an order, and no amount of need or empathy would override the consequences of disobeying. As if conscious of his desires, his contract tingled alive.

"_I made my bed, I'm lying in it."_ He thought impatiently. His first whim was to wait in the earl's sitting room just beyond his door until the contract released him from his order. Then came the gentle saline scents – tears – and he knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself. Some doors down he came upon the study, a room that he seldom spent time in, but had the strongest urges to clean. No longer the steward of the London estate, he sat idly by while Agni passed up the room on numerous occasions: Soma, after all, had no use for it, and it had been relegated to little more than a storage room.

It was a good refuge, Sebastian decided, until things had calmed down. The door was of thick mahogany, just enough to dull his senses to the exterior world. He needed the distraction, even if his heart wouldn't stop thrumming against his chest and his mind wouldn't stop reeling. Ciel _loved_ him. _Him_. The demon couldn't help but to feel incredulous. Certainly he had always been there for the earl, had met every whim and need. Certainly, too, he loved the teen in return, more deeply than he figured he could himself articulate, but he had been positively convinced that his emotions would remain unrequited. And yet… an admission at the most surprising time.

Dazed, he sat himself in the leather armchair behind an ornate desk. There was more to it than simply that, he realized. He had been asked for sex once again, yet on the pretense that there was a difference in feelings. Hell, that there were feelings at all. A low keening sound escaped his throat as he toyed with the bottles of ink lined up on the wooden surface. Genuine, passionate sex; a physical connection that held meaning for a change. It had been a long time since he had had anything near to it. Dark hair and golden eyes flashed before his eyes, but he quickly disregarded it. He had spent far too many years pursuing that sort of affection. _Love_.

He leaned back in his seat, willing the contract to fizzle out and allow him his freedoms. His entire being yearned to slip back inside that bedchamber, to comfort and reassure his mate. To kiss him and hold him and stroke the gentle flesh of his belly, to calm him and love him in any way he was permitted. Things that might be acceptable for him to act upon. It was funny how drastically three words had changed his entire perspective.

He rested his chin atop steepled fingers, surveying the room. He could detect Vincent Phantomhive in every nook and cranny, upon the bookshelves and the desk top, the very inkwells. A part of him regretted never knowing the man: others talked of him as some enigmatic being, and truly, he must have known a lot that he had no choice but to keep to himself. Undertaker had been undoubtedly close to him, and his tone turned to one of melancholy affection whenever the name arose. What had he truly been like, the former Phantomhive?

"I don't suppose you've any advice for me?" Sebastian said aloud. The dust motes continued to fall unhindered by his query. He sighed softly, not expecting an answer. Rising from the chair, the edge of a large painting caught his eye. A large dresser that did not fit the décor of the room stood before it, obscuring the majority of the canvas from sight. Curious, the demon shifted it to the side – careful not to make much noise or rumple the carpet – and approached the gilded frame. At the bottom was a small engraved plaque. Brushing a layer of grime from its face, Sebastian read the two lines, "Nicolas Poussin", beneath which was inscribed simply, "1648".

The demon stepped back to take in the dark shapes. It was a carefully made reproduction of an original piece, he concluded, the brushstrokes almost too rigid in the artist's determination to maintain authenticity. Still, it was a beautiful piece, vibrancy faded by age. In the bottom corner sat a man with a dusty red sash and a lyre slung across his lap. _"Orpheus."_ The butler smiled, recognizing the figure surrounded by adoring women. The charmer that could calm any beast and woo any human being. Sought after by women, but eternally dedicated only to one…

There she was, hiding beneath the frame of another woman. Her eyes were not on her husband, but staring in fright behind her. _"Eurydice."_ Sebastian recalled, tilting his head to examine her gentle features. The beautiful woman who died on her wedding day. Beyond the dark swell of bushes lay a snake, with whose venom would claim her life.

"_Or,_" the demon wondered, gaze shifting to the youth who stared after Eurydice with lust. "_Was it the satyr that was her undoing? In her determination to remain faithful to her husband, she stumbled and fell upon the den of snakes, which then bit her ankle and claimed her life._" Something uncomfortable stirred within the demon. The very personifications of Lust and Envy was what stole the maiden's life, had, in ways, hunted her down specifically.

His thoughts flickered back to his mate, curled up alone in the sheets of his bed: the beautiful Eurydice for whom his own Orpheus would sacrifice any material – his own being, even – if only to preserve her. It wasn't a happy tale to relate to. He too would willingly enter the Underworld to regain what was lost if Lust and Envy – dark feathers, lusty grey eyes, the scent of Bulgarian roses – returned to claim what he held most precious.

"I won't let you." He vowed darkly.

Yet what was he to do? He could litter the ground with his own body and blood – would, if that was what it took to protect his mate and kit – but he could not hope to eliminate every danger, every enemy. Succubae, a harpy. He wouldn't let them succeed, and yet he knew that more would come to fill their place. Humans, reapers, incubi. There would always be some adversary, some spurned admirer.

The beautiful Eurydice, who had died a double-death. Leading her from the depths of the Underworld, her faithful husband had disobeyed the gods and had turned to ensure that she was safe. She had faded before him, destroyed by his own good intentions. Was that it? Was it over-caution? Was it fear?

"How can I protect him?" he whispered aloud. The reply came to him without hesitation, as though supplied by a silent onlooker. The voice was not his own: soft and certain.

"_Don't look back."_

* * *

Sugared pastry overwhelmed his senses as he melted against the soft linens, face nestled in a tangle of blue-grey hair. At last, the contract had released him from his orders. Ciel was warm against his chest, hand unconsciously clenched around a handful of dress shirt, willing him closer. He could tell that his mate was suffering from a nightmare; soft mewls of anxiety escaping his lips as lids flickered in their dream state. He stroked the small of the teen's back, willing the dark thoughts to go away, same as one would console a sleeping cat.

A soft gasp alerted him that Ciel had emerged, gasping in the cool evening air as one who nearly drowned. The smile didn't falter when a single sapphire eye fluttered open. Gently he caressed the flushed cheek beneath his palm, welcoming his love into the temporary safety of reality. Gentle pink lips parted, questions gathering on the tongue between. _"Yes, I'm truly here, my love."_ The demon thought, broadening the path of his affections. Gently, he mapped out the contour of the other's spine, the gentle dip of his back, the soft rise of his hips. He wanted to memorize every inch of that delicate skin.

Hesitantly the earl raised his own hand, hovering above the demon's cheek. His breath caught, fingers sweeping down to trace cool patterns over the flesh, afraid that the butler would recoil at the intimacy. Sebastian keened imperceptibly towards the open palm, a smile settling across his lips as it descended and cupped his cheek. The touch was icy, but he could resolve that. He swept his thumb across his master's face in gentle circles.

"Are you really here?" Ciel whispered, letting the question free. The demon's gaze warmed, noting the wonder in his mate's voice and the off kilter patter of his heart. Ciel pressed closer to his chest, as though afraid his vision would falter and he'd find himself alone. "I thought –."

"You never clarified how long I was banned from your room, master." Sebastian explained softly. "I left, and now I have returned."

The earl nodded, lid eclipsing his eye, his body on the brink of surrender. To sleep or his own fantasy, Sebastian was uncertain. He massaged the knotted muscles of Ciel's lower back, easing their bodies together. The younger flowed in to him, nuzzling as bare fingers wove their way in to his hair, soothing his scalp as they wound through his grey tresses. They eased to the base of his neck, cupping his head, gently beckoning him forward.

Then Sebastian's lips met Ciel's, innocent, soft, and yielding. He smiled in to the kiss, coaxing his master along, reveling in the inexperience of the younger. After a few seconds, the other responded, hesitantly moving against the demon, mimicking the gentle patterns Sebastian led him through. He felt electric, the most alive he'd felt in years. It was a different euphoria than fighting and bloodshed, but gave him an equally voracious appetite. He wanted to worship the body wrapped in his arms, to bathe the earl with his affections.

He flicked out his tongue, tracing the seam of the earl's lips, begging entry. Ciel released a gasp that coalesced into a moan, mouth parting, his entire being folding open before the demon's touch. Sebastian groaned softly – more sounds gone unnoticed in the intoxication of each other's presence – and inclined forward, delving into the heady warmth of the teen's mouth. A hesitant tongue met his own, submitting as he slid against and over it, gently brushing over the sensitive roof of his mouth, back over his tongue, guiding it forward.

The new sensations undid the remnants of the earl's composure and he moaned openly, surging forward and furrowing his hands in to the lapels of the demon's coat. Sebastian ushered a soft laugh, complemented by the other's sudden urgency. He kissed the reddened lips decidedly, letting his hand fall free from the tangled patch of hair to trail across the earl's jaw line, thumbing over the flushed cheek.

His blood was singing through his veins, alight with genuine affections and his own demonic cravings to lavish his mate with them. He itched to pin the willing body down beneath him, nip and kiss and lick over the small scar upon his neck – the sign of their spiritual union. He broke away, tempering himself, dragging his claws delicately along the sensitive line of skin. They caressed the expanse of neck and jaw, circling over the chin to trace over the swell of still parted lips. Sebastian twined his fingers with his mate's and holding them palm-to-palm as though it were the most sacred thing to him. Ciel shivered against him, slightly more confident as he kissed and sucked the other's lips, sweeter smelling still with desire and pregnancy. Sebastian rose from the mattress – now when had he fallen upon it? – cradling his master to his chest and seating him in his lap.

"That," he sighed, interjecting with another kiss. "Was unexpected."

"But good?" the earl returned, triumphant and hopeful all at once. He reached out to caress Sebastian's cheek, seeking praise to tell him he was doing things properly. The demon smiled contentedly and keened in to the touch, delighted by the spark of happiness in his young mate.

"_Very_ good." He assured, nuzzling in to the crook of the other's neck. The light crescent of the mate mark glinted beneath him, and he brushed his tongue against it, tasting the mixture of salty sweat and heated sugar. Instantly, Ciel gasped, rolling his neck to grant the demon better access as he littered the sensitive area with teasing nips and bruising kisses. Sebastian ushered a low growl, marking a path along the sloping neck to shell of the earl's ear. "You should be careful when you do that, master;" he hummed warningly. "It's a sign of submission in the culture of demons."

"Submission…?" Ciel repeated wantonly, surrendering further beneath the willowy fingers fanning across his body. Still, his neck remained opened, offering – the demon hummed deviously, running his fangs along the expanse, settling over the mark, pressing, just until the warmth of blood pooled between skin and lips, and he was curved back over the shell of the earl's ear.

The younger gasped as cool air suddenly hit his neck, devoid all too quickly of the demon's affections. _"Who knew you make such a generous lover, my dear?"_ Sebastian mused to himself, smirking at his master's shock and slight frustration._ "So coy and demanding, just as in business. How can I not tease you a little?"_

He raked his teeth over cartilage, gently pulling and eliciting a moan. Breathing hotly against his mate's ear, feeling the resulting shiver, the spiked intoxicating pheromones. His tongue traced down along the shell, lathing the sensitive swatch behind it before sucking the tender lobe in to his mouth and nipping it as well. The ball piercing was cold against his tongue and he twirled it ever so slightly, delighting in the ragged gasp of his master. _"The piercing I gave you myself."_ He thought with satisfaction. Another physical proof of their bond. He relinquished his grip, hovering over the shell once more.

"How should I take you, my lord?" he husked.

Another beautiful moan tumbled from Ciel's lips and he turned with sudden shyness, blushing and mewling submissively against the claws that trailed over his abdomen. "A-any way you'll have me…" he gasped, avoiding the intensity of the demon's gaze, placing lust-drugged kisses against the other's chest.

He belonged here, by his master's side. By his _mate's_ side. Showering him with affection in every form he could possibly give, loving and supporting him in every way he could express. It was natural and beautiful and sacred and he was so legitimately _grateful_. He crushed their lips together and was met with equal desire, tongues sliding together desperately, not caring how sloppy their kisses were becoming, lost in the mind numbing feel of the other's touch and body. Craving.

"E-enough." He instructed hoarsely, all but melting against the demon.

Sebastian froze, aroused but uncertain. _"Have I offended you? Oh please don't tell me it makes you remember –."_

But the dichromatic burned like heated jewels, mouth slack and begging to be kissed once more. Always once more. "I want you _inside_ of me, Sebastian."

Shock and love-fueled lust surged through the demon and he recaptured those alluring lips with his own. He needed this moment more than anything. Smoldering crimson sought out blue and violet and they locked together, so like and unlike before. A mirrored reflection of that night, only this time something genuine and sincere had blossomed between them. _"This is different."_ The demon thought with willful affection. _"This is how it should have been, how you deserved for it to be. This is the kind of love I've craved to give to you."_

He snaked a hand beneath his mate's head, cradling it in his palm and curling his fingers about the messy tresses once more. Without breaking contact, he pulled gently away, moving slowly despite how he ached to take greedily. This thing they shared – Ciel himself – was too precious to treat like just another lover.

He held his young mate steady, directing his body towards the utmost pleasure, fingers straying every so often to stroke the gentle swell of abdomen beneath which their kit grew. The thoughts wouldn't gather, but the emotions jumbled into a swell of knowing. Even if they only had one night, the demon would treasure the memory forever.

"_Family."_ He thought haphazardly. _"Tonight… we truly are a family. This is how it's supposed to be."_

"Sebastian!_"_

"_Stay near to me always. I love you so dearly –."_

"Ciel." The name escaped his lips in a breath of adoration. The teen froze, inhaling sharply as the demon's mind reeled to catch up with his mouth. He hadn't meant to say the word aloud. He ground to a stop, examining his mate closely and burning – although it wasn't observable – with embarrassment. He held that name so closely vested to him that it barely was voiced in his thoughts, let alone… yet the face beneath him held only wonder and he could hear the trilling heartbeat skip and then pound harder. It felt so good on his tongue. Intimate.

He caressed the earl's cheek and leant in to kiss him, sheets of dark hair spreading over them like a gentle halo. "My apologies…" he murmured, regaining a slow tempo. He pulled away to gauge the other's face. "It was simply an accident, my lord." The awe did not cease and the smallest hints of a smile hung about Sebastian's lips. "I assure you it will not happen agai –."

"Say it again."

The demon blinked, genuinely shocked by the lusty order. He had anticipated mild acceptance or the more common mode of flustered forgiveness. He stared deep into the other's eyes, searching for a catch. The teen laughed huskily, capturing the demon's lip between his teeth. Gentle hands pressed against his shoulders and Sebastian allowed himself to fall against the recently vacated mattress.

"I want to hear you call my name, Sebastian." Ciel ordered coyly.

"Ciel." The demon growled lustily, regaining some control._ "Ciel."_

"_Take me!"_

Sebastian leaned in, sinking his fangs into the crescent scar of Ciel's neck. A gasp of twined pleasure and pain rushed against his ear and he echoed it, shaking with the overwhelming arrays of pleasure in both their bodies, inhaling the presence of his mate, pressing him close as hot breaths ghosted his own neck, riding out the last throes of ecstasy before they collapsed against the other's embrace.

Immediately, he nuzzled against his mate's neck, licking the reopened wound gently, savoring every precious drop of blood. It was coppery against his tongue but he gladly wiped it clean from the porcelain skin. He gave a tired smile and freed his fingers from their hold on the other's head, untangling a few damp strands of hair before cupping a pinked cheek. Small tracks of tears dotted the earl's face and Sebastian gently licked them up too with a comforting feline fashion.

The demon edged away, resting Ciel beneath him on to the pillows, slipping from his body and watching with satisfaction as the earl relaxed against the mattress. Their chests still heaved and though it was much too hot for contact, they nestled close, an unspoken need to retain their physical unity. Sebastian's fingers listed over his mate's body, assessing the damage that he couldn't bring himself to regret and working out the kinked muscles until the teen's breathing had slowed enough to talk.

"Are you alright?" he asked tenderly, massaging a hip around its array of discoloured love bites. A metallic tang alerted him that his mate had bled from their encounter, but no signs of pain crossed the other's face as he turned to him laboriously.

"Exhausted." He breathed, drawing his butler to him by the base of his skull. Sebastian's expressed softened, content that his mate was unharmed, and kissed him softly. "Mmm."

"Mmm." The demon agreed, pulling away. "Would you like me to bathe you, my lord?"

"I'd much prefer staying here." The other replied softly, stealing another kiss. "That can wait." Sebastian smiled and pulled him to his chest, embracing him there.

"Hmm, I suppose it can." He murmured, nuzzling into the freshly made mate mark. The defenses had yet to go up this time, and ripples of hope pulsed through him. He nestled against the other's hair, content in inhaling his scent. "Master, was what you said true?"

"Was what?" Ciel asked deliriously, stroking his lover's face with a content smile.

"Do you love me?"

The demon dared not breathe as gentle two-toned eyes met his. He knew he had laid himself bare, was allowing all of the hopeful curiosity and boundless love pour forth. Words, mere words were what he was hinging on. He had relinquished his safety and given the other the power to utter destroy him.

"Yes." The reply was soft and certain. "I love you."

Sebastian brushed forward, passionately capturing Ciel's lips in his own, melding into soft kisses and licks of utmost relief and love and gratitude. He parted with a gentle sound and nuzzled against his mate, drawing his lips over the other's ear. The words escaped him in one blissful breath he'd been holding in for far too long.

"I love you, too, Ciel."

Hands fisted in his hair and drew them closer together, passionate kisses flowing between them both, faint touches and caresses exchanged lovingly as they settled down. They melted into each other's lazy kisses as exhaustion stole over them, leading them off to sleep with smiles on their faces as they lay nestled in each other's arms as equals.

* * *

When Sebastian awoke it was early morning, greying but dark as the shadows slowly took the forms of dressers and armoires and chairs. Ciel had remained tucked in to his chest, his hot breath pooling against his sternum. The demon smiled and parted slightly from his mate, giving their bodies room to breathe lest the mounting heat awaken the younger or make him feverish. Gently, he traced the contour of the other's body, gliding over the bare skin that prickled with unconscious warmth beneath his fingers. The teen sighed a contented moan and rolled halfway to his back, baring himself open.

Sebastian smiled and nestled his face against his mate's shoulder, letting his roaming hand rest at the swell of the other's hip. The gentle waves of Ciel's sleeping breath lulled him into a dreamless daze. The minutes gave way to hours and before he knew it, the first hazy pricks of sunlight were drifting through the blinds. It fell in amber beams across the carpet, softened by the morning fog and the purled grey clouds so typical of a London winter.

He watched as time unfurled about him, for once at peace with the notion. The titillations of birds began, and somewhere across the estate Agni was waking and preparing for the day. It was a calm like he had never known. The sun rose higher still and the chamber grew a smoky blue grey. The demon smiled, recalling an old tale he had heard in his younger years. _"When demon cats die,"_ the wispy blonde had told her wide-eyed kit, _"they go to the heavens and become stars. We worship the sun in the morn, and when we pass, we too become light."_

The kit had furrowed its brow in deep concentration, _"Then who brings the sun? What if it doesn't come one morning?"_

His mother had laughed and pet his little triangular ears, _"The ancestors bring it, dear sweet. When the dogs finish baying their praises to the moon, the spirits of our predecessors awaken in the night sky and run across the heavens, united as a single clan, and they come and wake the sun each morning."_

"_Why?"_ the kit asked innocently.

His mother smiled at him fondly and placed a kiss to his forehead. _"So that we may share in their eternal warmth and feel the love every mother has for her kits, dear sweet."_

Sebastian hummed at the memory, stroking across the precious stomach beside him with utmost care. "Perhaps one day I will tell you that story, little love." He whispered to their unborn child. Warm garnet eyes smiled back at him in his mind's eye. Their beautiful kit. He placed a kiss to Ciel's cheek and the teen began to stir, stretching the sleep from his muscles. The mismatched eyes fluttered open, still hazy with dreamless comfort. The demon purred low in his throat, warmth spreading through him at his mate's innocent smile. He leaned in to kiss him awake.

"Good morning." The younger yawned, moving to accommodate the demon as he nuzzled against his cheek.

"Good morning, darling." Sebastian hummed back affectionately, delighting in the deep stain that rose across the earl's cheeks.

"You're terrible." He muttered, glancing away as he buried himself in the demon's chest. Sebastian chuckled, unfazed by the show of embarrassment. He kissed the blushing cheek, letting his fingertips fall back to the other's abdomen, circling light patterns over the fragile skin. He swept his thumb across the hollow of Ciel's navel, smiling when the earl's breath hitched at the unfamiliar sensations. Hesitant fingers closed down over his own, lacing and pressing together over the place. Sebastian nearly purred with contentment.

Ciel was gazing at him with wonder and confusion, but he could only answer with affectionate racing thoughts. _"This is what you've been craving, my darling. You've yearned for this physicality, for my love. Confirmation that this sacred being within you is truly ours."_ The earl melted under his look, hesitantly beginning to speak.

"I thought –." He began, and the demon stared back patiently. Ciel blinked, surprised the two words weren't enough to explain; Sebastian inwardly laughed at the innocence. He was an acute observer, but he wasn't a labyrinth of omnipotent knowledge as his mate seemed to view him as. The earl faltered, voice dropping low. "I nearly killed it."

He hadn't quite anticipated that. 'Terminated', perhaps, but not something as cutting and blunt as 'kill'. He averted his eyes, assessing every spare centimeter of unharmed skin, forcing back the urge to hold the earl tightly and nuzzle the pain away. But such feline actions couldn't be understood by him, not just yet, and so the demon refrained.

"I thought it would be easier." Ciel quipped. "I didn't want – I _don't_ want –."

"_You couldn't bear the thought of losing it."_

"You made your decision." Sebastian interjected, folding himself around the other in a simple embrace. He dusted a kiss to the earl's temple. "And I will honor that choice as your servant and as your –." Well bother, what was he exactly? The demon paused, seeking a proper term from the male in his arms. Ciel blinked back vaguely, blushing but not certain what to suggest either. He yearned to use 'mate', and yet he was not yet bound to Ciel in return.

"As _yours_." He decided, cradling the other's hand in his own and kissing the tips of the chilly fingers. "I will not let harm come to you or our child."

Some flame like life sprung up behind the earl's eyes and a grin split his features. The demon smiled in reply with a gentle laugh – it was the first time they had settled on a possessive 'our'. Drunk off of sheer elation, he leant forward and nuzzled and kissed his mate, pouring forth his gratitude and relief with every press of their lips. The sheets entangled further about them but they paid them no mind, tumbling about with soft laughter.

"Now then," Sebastian said lightly, rising from the mattress and scooping the earl into his arms. Several bed sheets went with them and he gleefully ignored them as they sprung free of the wooden frame. Ciel shivered against the sudden rush of cool air, nuzzling against his arms before blushing, suddenly coming to the realization how nude the pair of them were. Sebastian smirked in amusement – he certainly had few qualms about his own body – and carried his master in to the bathroom. "Let's clean up, shall we?"

"U-uhn." Ciel replied distractedly, quickly turning to hiss as cold marble touched his skin. He shifted on the countertop, trying to get used to the sudden stimulus. The demon hummed richly in his throat, an aroused smirk twitching over his lips. His mate stared up at him with pining eyes. He brushed a palm against the younger's cheek and was immediately rewarded with a needy keen. He chuckled deeply and placed a kiss to the skin instead, breathing against the other's ear, "Later."

Suddenly he was by the tub, setting about preparations for the bath, unable to wipe the smirk off his face. For a while he could feel the hopeful eyes trained upon him, but after a time the feeling faded and he knew that the earl had immersed in his own thoughts. He watched surreptitiously as he drew the warmed water, patiently waiting for the questions that were bound to come. He had noticed something peculiar on the way into the bathroom: a particular sheathed knife lying neatly beneath the cracked mirror. The events of the night before clicked in to place and he could not help but to expel a chagrined sigh.

"_You see? This could have ended differently than you intended."_ He thought harshly, directing his ineffective frustrations to the mortician holed up some miles away. _"Even I interpreted this gift as something else entirely."_

It hadn't been long after the exchange that the demon had wound his way back through the dark side alley streets and arrived at the undertaker's doorstep. The man had cocked his head in genuine surprise, taken aback by Sebastian's hostility.

"_Wha' 'ave I done, then?"_ he questioned in thick Cockney, crossing his arms over his chest. The demon had snarled and appeared directly before the man, not giving a damn about politeness or personal space.

"_Don't. Fuck. With me. I know _exactly_ what you gave him. The _nerve _of you – and I thought you cared for his state of mind!_"

The mortician recoiled in confusion, calmly catching the clawed hand that went to seize his robes. The demon growled in warning, but the other paid him no heed, gently stroking the upheld wrist. "_Now calm down 'ere, Sebastian. I believe we've 'ad a… misunderstanding. I don' see why you'd ever think I'd wish to 'arm the little poppet, you know 'e's as good as family to me."_ He gave the demon a firm look through his bangs and Sebastian settled slightly, teeth gritted and unmoving from his spot. _"Tha' knife belonged to 'is grandfather, see. I was merely passing an ol' 'eirloom along. Makes a good weapon."_

"_Weapon?"_ Sebastian echoed. _"He has a gun, you know."_

Undertaker chuckled lightly, tossing his great mane of hair. _"A gun."_ He repeated in turn. A single clawed digit bent forward and rested against the demon's chest. _"An' wha's a bullet t'you? A tickle? You think 'e can take on a snatcher wi' tha'?"_ He inclined his head, begging an answer.

Sebastian had sighed and stepped out of the other man's hands, wrinkling his nose in vexation. _"Couldn't you have been a little less vague about it, then? What do you suppose he'll come to think, what with you giving a thing like that?"_

"_Wha's the matter wi' it?"_

The demon shot him a deadpan stare. _"If he harms himself or the kit? By force?"_

The embalmer paused, hands frozen comically in midair. He frowned a moment before rolling his shoulders into a casual shrug. _"'E 'as you, don't 'e?"_ He said lightly. _"'E internalizes more'n you give 'im credit for – it isn't something 'e could bring 'imself to do."_

The demon shook himself as the water surged over his hands. He sighed and fiddled with the taps, padding his hands dry with a small towel. It was lucky that Undertaker had been correct in his assumptions – even if they _were_ very nearly wrong. Still, there was something in the way the mortician had phrased his words that made him wonder if he hadn't suspected their feelings for one another all along. _"The cryptic bastard."_ He thought wryly to himself.

He fished about the silver basket through vials and tubs of bath ingredients. He palmed a pink container with a doily on its lid, scooping out the flowery salt. "Sebastian." The sound of his own name gave him pause, and he quirked a brow at his master. "Why do they want the baby dead?"

The demon smiled sadly as he let the granules pitter patter into the bath, blossoming with ringlets of pink that faded out as they sunk beneath the surface. He stowed the remaining supplies and swept the earl back into his arms, carrying him bridal style to the tub. Unabashed, he eased them both into it, situating with soft sounds of delight as the temperature relaxed their muscles. Ciel nestled against him and the smile grew more genuine. He scooped a small handful of the rose-scented water and let it cascade down the younger's chest, beginning to bathe him.

_The baby_. The terminology sounded so foreign and peculiar to his ears. He dismissed the notion and answered with a question of his own, "I thought you understood it was a matter of blood purity, my lord?"

"I do." The earl confirmed, pressing against the caress of Sebastian's claws against his scalp. "However, I doubt that they would go to such great lengths to ensure something as simple as blood purity."

The demon quieted, knowing he'd have to own up to his blood. Resignedly, he toyed the tangles free from his lover's hair, gently soaking it until it fell in smooth sheets. It wasn't that he wanted to be untruthful, he merely wasn't thrilled by his own heritage, having spent a large chunk of his formative years fearing – and in turn despising – all other races that thought of demons as no more than a speck of dirt beneath their shoes.

"You would be correct, my lord." He sighed, feeling about for the rounded bar of soap. "Blood purity is an excuse." – _"Save for the snobby aristocrats."_ – "Most importantly, it is a power struggle."

"Power struggle?" Ciel repeated, voice trembling on a whimper as lathered hands worked their way down his neck and back, scrubbing him of the night's activities. The demon nodded to himself as he worked over the unblemished skin.

"_The kit's blood has erased all of the bruises I gave you, it seems."_

"Usually," he continued aloud. "Succubae and incubi alike will let the birth of a cambion go, despite the fact that they are notorious for their wild and violent tendencies. Though one would think that human blood would dilute this, it actually possesses the opposite effect: the conflict of human and incubus or succubus blood makes the cambion unstable both mentally and physically – much like the snatchers. However, they do possess the means to be eloquent and refined, capable of functioning as a full incubus until they _snap_ –." He broke off the train of thought, sighing.

"So this means…?" Ciel asked slowly, shuddering at the implications.

"No." the demon replied, shifting to scrub away the cum and blood along his mate's thighs, not missing the small hitch of breath when he pressed closer. "I, myself, am only half incubus."

"Half?" The word slipped off his tongue unabated, the scent of his arousal already mingling with the aromas of the rose salt. Sebastian hummed lowly, lips pressed against a bare shoulder as he bent his mate forward, circling his entrance with soap slicked fingers and pressing it inside, letting the warm water seep in.

"Yes." He purred, knowing that the earl's train of thought had long since derailed, but continuing on dutifully as soft moans met his ears. "Half incubus and half cat demon. The mixture of a demon with an animal familiar with an incubi or succubi is often said to be one of the most powerful beings." He chuckled with pride, licking up the slope of Ciel's spine. "I doubt that there's ever been a case of that mixing with human blood." He thought to say more but trailed off, watching with rapt attention the way the earl's head pressed back against his chest as another finger slipped inside, exposing the arc of his slender neck. Hungrily, he made small scissoring motions with his fingers until Ciel was writhing against him, pressing into the hardened length at his back.

"So, naturally, they're afraid of the product of our union." He continued silkily. "Incubi and succubi are proud creatures and choose to eliminate anything more powerful than themselves rather than accept its existence humbly – the reason that there are very few hybrids with incubi and succubi like myself." His lips curled into a smug grin. "Is there something the matter, my lord?"

"_You –_." The earl grumbled, quickly silenced by the fingers that slid into his mouth and stroked gently across his tongue.

"I apologize for doing this to you, my lord." Sebastian husked against his ear, feeling anything but sorry. "I just cannot seem to help myself when you're so –." He cut off with a lusty gasp as Ciel sucked the fingers into his mouth, lathing over them without hesitation. The demon growled, slipping his over hand free and replacing the digits with himself, shuddering with pleasure as the earl squirmed and closed about him. He cradled the trembling body to him, curling a hand about the other's erection. "Let's make this fast, shall we?"

Quick thrusts and sighing moans brought them over the edge, climaxing with frenzied touches and kisses, experiencing all over again each other's embraces. The tempo, the location – none of it mattered, the world fading away as they fell upon each other again and again, caresses and favors and gentle bites. Against the counter, then the wall, tipping backwards onto the mattress, nuzzling and whispering soft utterances of love to one another. At last they curled together among the sheets, drowsy with sex and warm afternoon light. Sebastian kissed his mate, inhaling their twined scents, lacing their fingers together between their chests and feeling for all the world at peace.

* * *

**EDIT:** This chapter has had the lemon scene edited out of it so that the story is not removed from the site. For the full version, see my main page.


	7. Lycaeides Melissa Samuelis  Clean

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter Seven**

**Lycaeides Melissa Samuelis**

_"Without, the sun shines bright and the birds are singing amid the ivy on the drooping beeches. Their choice is made, and they turn away hand-in-hand, with their backs to the darkness and their faces to the light."_

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (The White Company)

The bureau creaked a tremulous groan of indignation as the two bodies cast upon it. Puckered rivulets of pink ran down the earl's back, the reminders of the now-daily activities: the morning wake ups and tea time lounges and after dinner parties. They faded beneath the demon's lathing tongue, which drank up every last blemish his claws and fangs had bit into the pristine white skin. Hours later, they would be painted anew and his mate would throatily moan at every lusty brand of possession. Like beings consumed, they belonged to no one but each other.

He smelled like a fucking bakery. Natural scent sweetened by pregnancy – _by their kit_ – and by sex and perfumed sweat. Kissable and lovable and fuckable. Sebastian growled pleasurably and curled his fingers through his mate's hair, tugging silken fistfuls gently back and baring the delicate curve of his neck. The gentle rumble of speech met his lips as he grazed across the offered flesh.

"I hope you understand that you are a relentless p– !"

A satisfactory "_oh"_ punctuated his accusation as Sebastian made a sudden move.

"_Pervert_!"

"Forgive me for speaking out of place," the demon countered with an aroused chuckle. "But you hardly seem to have any qualms about it," He bent forward, letting his breath ghost over the shell of the younger's ear. "_Darling_."

_His mate_. Not some toy or some disposable prostitute, someone loving and trusting enough to let him in. Ciel, of all individuals, who had been hurt deeper than words could encapsulate. Scarred and shamed in ways that had built up walls reinforced with steel and bitter retorts. All of that was crumbling away and something beautiful was thawing out between them, something near tangible. He wanted to see that proof and to let Ciel understand it too.

The frenzied actions, the scandalous whispers, the hasty sessions before an appointment: all of it would have amounted to nothing were it not with Ciel. _"My beautiful darling,"_ the demon crooned to himself, _"Let me show you every act of passion I know; let us discover them together. I cannot let you look away, my love. You need to see how far we've come."_

"No." Ciel protested, pitching forward and burying his face into the crook of his arm. His mate stilled, heart racing and urging him to continue. Yet, small spirals of fear snaked into his gut and he maintained.

"Ciel?"

"_Have I offended you this time? I would never want –."_

"No." the earl repeated, shaking his head firmly in his conviction. "No. I look –."

The demon watched closely as dichromatic eyes matched themselves in the mirror, introspective and anxious. They lowered, as though ashamed of the answer they found.

"Helpless."

"Hmm." The demon hummed measuredly, once more stroking the blushed cheek of his mate. Fingers slipped away as Sebastian nuzzled against the shell of the younger's ear. "I like when you look helpless."

As he had predicted, the stiffness returned to his mate's shoulders, the thrum of his heart sped up for the demon's ears only. He had chosen his words precisely this time. The earl shied away from the hot kisses falling on his skin, but the demon wouldn't let him delve back in to his fear.

"But," he continued, feeling the breath hitch in the throat beneath his fingertips. "I'm the only one allowed to see that face." The demon hummed darkly, watching every flitting emotion in the mirror, drinking in every hazed and lust filled expression that filled Ciel's being. There, in the crook of his neck, peeked the scarred crescent of their mate mark. Sebastian nestled against it, sampling the sensitive region with swaths of his tongue. Fangs grazed across it gently, having already tasted the forbidden joy of their coupling.

"You will never be helpless in the eyes of another." He whispered huskily, pressing another kiss to the mark and snaking a hand forward to lace with Ciel's. Shaking fingers squeezed back in earnest. "Have I ever let one who saw your begging face live?"

A rhetorical question he didn't need the answer to. "_No one_." He growled. The flash of a small smile spurred him. "I am the _only_ one allowed to see you like this, master."

"You're beautiful." He purred, staring heatedly into their reflection, pinning Ciel with his gaze. They watched each other through the cracked surface. So strange how two weeks had brought them to this, the constant shagging and stolen kisses, hiding from the others in dark corners of the manor and laughing about it later. It was some mirrored alter life that Sebastian never wished to awaken from.

With a heady laugh he spun Ciel around, kissing him with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that were dazedly returned. Gently, Sebastian pressed him to the mattress, burying him in the strewn depths of the feather-filled duvet and smooth cotton sheets. Still catching his breath, he kissed his mate deeply.

"You're relentless." The earl teased, smiling wryly as he allowed himself to be pulled to his side and cradled. Sebastian hummed contentedly, nuzzling against his neck.

"_One day I'll teach you what all of these physical gestures mean."_ He thought, pressing a kiss to his mate's bare shoulder. _"These motions of thanks and affection – I wonder, can you identify some of them already?"_

They lay in silence a moment more, listening close to one another's shallow breathing. Ciel fingered the planes of his butler's chest absently, keening forward in a feline way he had yet to understand. A small smile quirked over the demon's lips. He still had so much to teach him. The blood of their child mixing with his mate's promised them time, precious time that slipped away from reach with every human second. But it would be enough.

Two weeks and they had become entangled so deeply in one another's sheer being. It was a blesséd thing, yet it came with a price. Two weeks was what they had been given, and Sebastian hadn't forgotten. It was an anxiety that curdled in his gut, but the sex and affirmations and reaffirmations that his world was indeed real pushed it all from his mind. The assailants would return, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore – he had Ciel and a kit on the way, and together they had a future and a shot at happiness. He would decimate anything that tried to get in the way of that ideal.

"_I will shelter you from every ill_." He thought vehemently, threading his fingers through Ciel's hair. The other hummed at the gentle action, following their secret biddings and inclining his face to meet his butler's.

"I love you." He said in a breath.

"As I love you, darling." The demon replied with a gentle smile, capturing his young mate's lips in another kiss. It was slower now, tender and lazy. Contentedly they broke apart and Ciel nestled against his chest.

"Sebastian." He prompted, tugging lightly at the other's shoulder. The demon quirked a brow at the action and rolled back on top of his mate as requested, unable to suppress the amused smirk.

"_Again? Well, not that I'm complaining…"_

But no, Ciel was smiling too, shaking his head slightly as though to dispel the demon's unspoken queries. Gently he took the elder's hand in his, drawing it open-palmed across his face and letting it rest over his single lavender eye. Sebastian blinked, perplexed, and caressed the side of his mate's face, blanketing the marked orb with his equally branded hand.

It was so different from before. Dull, wide blue eyes glaring up at him. Face streaked with tears and grime and blood that did not belong to him. A piteous creature behind bars, frail fingers clinging to the rails, nails torn and caked with dirt. Somehow, the dying scraps of spirit had yet to peter out. Demanding yells fit of a being of his pedigree spilling from his lips, tearing from an ill-used and dry throat. Full of blinding hatred and desperation and twisted acceptance. His hand had plunged forward – claws extended, hands wrapped in the material of clothing he had stolen from various others, lovers and whores and those who wished him dead – and had grasped the side of that face. His soap-sweetened palm had closed over a damning blue eye, hadn't relented under the screams of pain or the warm sensation of blood bubbling up from between the fluttering lids.

Apathy, utter apathy. The contract could have killed the child and it wouldn't have meant more to the demon than one feels when they turn a page of a book and leave one line of text for another. It would have been a shame though, a waste if not even that could have cured his boredom, could have renewed his life. He hadn't intended on finding so much in the boy, hadn't anticipated discarding his cold and callous demeanor, hadn't meant to play the part so well. Somewhere along the way, those lines had blurred. He wasn't playing any longer, there was no act, save for the clueless human guests that waltzed their way to and fro the mansion's stage as mere minor characters. The demon hadn't meant to feel so exposed, and to not care that he was becoming vulnerable. To feel.

Now nothing was more precious to him, nothing was more sacred, more important. His mate: not a possession, but an equal, someone who deemed him deserving of their love, their heart. Had placed undying trust in him, gave him worth and revealed a part of him he had thought long dead. He was a thawing, winged thing revitalized by the life only Ciel could give him and for the time he was gifted, he was content with his survival resting in that one precarious thing.

The gentle kiss the earl pressed against his wrist brought him back to the present. "You ask why I react to that pet-name in such a way?" The younger began, nuzzling and caressing the near-indistinguishable callouses of his butler's palm. "It's because I never believed I would be that to someone." He parted from the touch, nuzzling his cheek fully into the hollow of the open palm. "And now I have you."

Joy blossomed in Sebastian's chest and he cradled his lover's face in his hands, staring down at him adoringly. The earl blushed and kissed the nearest palm, turned quickly to grace the demon's lips. "Thank you, my love." Sebastian whispered, nestling their bodies together. Ciel relaxed against him, familiar with their embraces, and together they drifted off into hazy dreams.

* * *

Cosette sunk with a huff against the doorframe, easing upon a shoulder. Cocoa powder dusted her breast, but she hardly noticed it, brushing back limp strands of hair disinterestedly. It fell in weighty curls across her back, frizzy locks still creeping forward in a wreath about her round face. The night had been drizzly, just another glum English night that she hated. The rain always made her hair loose its sheen. _"I look like a fucking peasant in her mistress' borrowed clothing."_ She scowled, halfheartedly fluffing the front of her skirts. They rumpled in retort.

She yearned to go back to her beloved Paris and its predictable weather. Escape the cold shouldered winds of the British countryside and the sudden downpours, the suspicious looks and smirks. Where was the pomp, the glamour? All of the splendor of her apartment and its trappings, the fleur de lis in all its glorious patterns embroidered on every article in shining golden thread. The warmth of her people and their secretive smiles. The honey-thick lilt of their voices wrapping about the English language, gliding over their mother tongue. She was sick of British indifference and miserable weather and stupid, outdated wallpapers and of hiding. _Oh_ how she loathed the hiding. She was a creature meant for seducing, for being shown off and preying upon the wealthy and gorgeous at fabulous parties. It was no wonder she was wilting under the conditions.

Disgruntled, she glowered at the opposing wall – sure enough the paper was peeling from its high border, equally disheartened by the cold – waiting to be noticed. At the far end of the dressing room Leona sat before her vanity, perfectly pressed golden tresses and ruby red lips reflecting back at her from the three angled mirrors.

Jealousy snared the succubae's heart: perfect little Leona, always so graceful and stunningly powerful. The dominant poise she held, the killer's calm, and yet the seducer's husky notes and bedroom eyes. It just wasn't _fair_. Nothing touched the woman, not the dismal weather, nor the interrupted plans, and certainly not the blasted waiting. Nothing, _nothing_ ever marred her features – even in her blinding rage she maintained her beauty. It was unsettling.

She was an ageless Venus, forever crowned in gold and adoration with cheeks flushed the perfect shade of pink. Cosette's eyes narrowed, lips licked clean of pigment pursing. Just once, she wanted to see that perfection crack. She thought of the demure woman sitting in a gilded frame at home, a gorgeous reproduction of a Rossetti. Spite drove her to desire. She wanted to sink a knife into the canvas of that flawless face and tear it asunder. The harpy trilled a low coo behind her as it sunk its beak into the mangled carcass of a rabbit as if in quiet agreement. She huffed a humorless laugh at it and it quieted, ducking its bloodied beak into its dinner.

At length Leona turned from the mirrors, brush in hand. She turned her cheek slightly towards the door, shoulder dipping vaguely: all the recognition she would expend. The hem of her robe slipped down her pale skin, a brilliant emerald silk embroidered with narcissus and rhododendron. Cosette didn't have to draw near to know it matched the shade of the other woman's eyes perfectly.

"Why do you even care so much, Leona?" she sighed aloud, breaking the insufferable silence. "He's not –." She caught herself, wrinkling her nose distastefully. "_They're_ not worth it."

The blonde shifted at her velveteen bench, smoky lashes downcast as she toyed with her perfume bottles, letting her claws clink between the glass forms and drag across the wood of her vanity. The black lace of her slip clung to her breasts, a golden locket on a thin chin pressed between them. A token of love given by a handsome aristocrat. But Cosette knew better – she had seen its former owner crumple to the floor as Leona twisted her neck with sickening finality, a placid smile on her painted lips as she slipped the trinket free. It was like living with a slumbering snake: terrifying, perhaps even repulsive, yet beautiful and alluring, constantly reeling her back into the coils of her words.

"Why do you?" the woman countered with an air of disinterest. Cosette stiffened, wrapping her arms about herself defensively as a gaudy blush darkened her cheeks. No words of self-preservation would come, already slowed by the poisonous cruelty of her benefactress. "Is it because you've never been refused before, Cosette?" Steady green eyes flickered up in the depths of the mirror, meeting stormy grey, coy painted lips driving home each syllable.

Cosette recoiled, floundering in the sea of memories that rushed forwards. The caulist's cold smile, the press of his claws bruising her skin, a man with piercing blue eyes laughing merrily and turning that warmth towards another woman, the ageless faces of doll after doll after doll lined in precise little cases about her home, all staring blankly and unsympathetically ahead, cold. Her hands balled into fists around her dress.

"Poor baby." Leona cooed, pointedly watching every flash of reaction. "Are you losing your touch?"

"I AM NOT!" Cosette shrieked, throwing her arms violently to her sides, eyes burning as they tinged scarlet. The snatcher echoed her pitch, craning its head back with hideous cracks, tossing it this way and that to assess its mistress with one milky eye. The succubus snarled, aware how mad she must appear with her petulant pout and wild hair. The avian cawed uncertainly, letting the carcass plummet to the carpet with a heavy _thump_ as it ruffled its wings into a new vantage. "I _refuse_ to accept that, Leona." The brunette continued, quieter.

She curled her fingers deep into her fists, balling up her claws as they bit into the flesh of her palms, warm blood gurgling over the nail beds in satisfactory streams. It was sobering, and she pushed her claws in deeper, squeezing the excess to drip in fat drops of the stupid pristine white carpet. It was hard not to giggle at that. Something flawed that no one could deny. But oh if she could just fix that damning woman…

"I've just…" she sighed, pausing dramatically and turning towards her snatcher, looping an arm about its thick neck and nuzzling into its plumage. Raw and decaying flesh notwithstanding, her beloved pet was cleaned, feathers oily in all the natural ways, blood only clotting its primaries which dragging across the floor in crimson sweeps whenever it shuffled its massive body. Cosette could feel the sneer of disgust from her partner, and pressed her emotions against the great avian, willing her audience to feel the genuineness of her performance. She imagined the way the wretched caulist had pushed her away as if she were some common jezebelle and not a voluptuous and powerful succubus. A _disgrace_. "I've never been treated that way before, Leona." She said tremulously. "No one has ever –."

The gentle creak of wood indicated Leona's approach, quickly followed by a sigh of resignation. With as close to tenderness as the succubus had encountered from the other woman, Cosette keened in to the arms that embraced her, nuzzling down on her friend's breast and sighing at the gentle strokes of elegant fingers combing through her bedraggled hair. _Was_ it friendship? Cosette wasn't truly certain. Leona was, at least, the longest lasting of her companions and the one least likely to be killed by her trademark fits of overenthusiastic joy.

Yet something dark lingered at the dark of her mind, a snide thing that had taken root and refused to be forced out. _"Just look at her, feel how supple her breasts are. See how her hair cascades over her shoulders? Her fingers smooth your hair, they never tangle it, they're never awkward or clumsy. Always always always graceful and eloquent and alluring. Perfect little princess Leona. And she's _older_ than you, you old cow. Look how the men turn their eyes to her, how they make their wives angry and suspicious. They undress her and fuck her right on the spot, all with their minds. When's the last time a man treated you that way? Maybe you are slipping, Cosette. Maybe you are some old maid, some scraps no one wants. Such a pathetic fate for a succubus. After all, without your beauty, are you really anything at all?"_

A quick kiss to the temple and the tears that threatened to bubble over Cosette's features vanished. It wasn't a charade anymore, genuine fear had crawled its way inside of her, drugged her with venomous words. "There now." Leona said evenly, actions quickly losing their notes of affection. The younger succubus whimpered and pressed closer into the cold open arms. What would it matter if the woman was the death of her, what with her radical plans and precise dates? What would any of it matter, the jealousy and annoyance, when it was the only place she could seek some semblance of shelter and comfort from the slow unwinding of her insecure and anxious mind? "He's obviously deranged, Cosette –." The succubus crooned, and the brunette nodded softly to the words, eating them up because she wanted to. "Seeing a human male through with such a disgusting task."

Cosette sniffled against the elder's breast, feeling the press of the locket against her cheek and knowing the golden heart was just as cold as the one pounding in the woman's chest. Red rimmed and tearstained, she raised her eyes to meet unfeeling emerald. "R-really?"

"Really." The succubus smiled, straightening the brunette in an almost motherly sort of fashion. "And deranged to turn down such a pretty thing such as you."

Cosette stuffed down all the feelings welling up inside of her and forced out a dazzling grin, flushing with roused excitement. It didn't matter if the words were hollow, so long as they were said. She could believe there was sincerity there, if she tried hard enough. She could make herself believe it. Ecstatically, she threw herself at the blonde, pressing her to a tight hug.

"Thank you so much Leona! La, I feel like I've gotten my second wind!" Childishly she dabbed at her eyes, scuffing away the beads of tears with the heels of her palms. No, laughter was too much for now. The anger surged forward, coupled with indignation. _They_ had made her feel like this, forced her back to this place she hated so much, hated more than all of drizzly Britain and all of its wretched, bitter inhabitants._They_ wouldn't be let off so easily; she wouldn't be so brazenly shamed without harsh retribution.

She balled her fists together beneath her breasts, almost in the mockery of prayer, looking for all the world like a doe eyed young girl who had caught sight of a fancy pair of slippers she desperately wanted. Save, of course, for the wicked smirk that twisted her lips, the cheerful demeanor not gone but tainted with dark amusement. "So which one would you like?"

"Darling," Leona laughed. "You always know how to bounce right back!"

The brunette grinned broadly back, flipping away locks of hair that slipped over her shoulder. "Indeed I do!" she giggled pleasantly, torn-up palms flapping. "Now! Tell me, tell me Leona! Which one do you want?"

"I think I'll leave disposing the abomination to you, lovie." The blonde crooned, fingering the rich fabrics of her wardrobe before selecting a plush white robe and exchanging her silk one for it. "It's only fair for you to do so;" she continued, luxurious halo of hair spilling out in waves over the collar. Cosette found nothing fair about that. "I think offing that blood traitor's kin will twist his unfeeling heart more than I ever could."

Cosette watched quietly as the serpent awakened, something warm and malicious flickering behind her cold and gemlike eyes. Wordlessly she submitted to the creature before her as it examined its precisely shaped claws, a wistful smile quirking over its lips. "Not that I wouldn't try." It crooned. Cosette shivered.

* * *

"So have you told him yet?"

Agni paused in his work, straightening up to look over at the back of the demon's head.

"Beg pardon?"

"Have you told him yet?" Sebastian repeated, turning around in his seat and letting the desk bite into his back. He laughed at his friend's confusion as he attempted to work out the ambiguous query. A steady blush crept across his cheeks and he folded the laundry with particular gusto, determined not to look the demon in the eye.

"I… well…" he began awkwardly, recalling the conversation they had shared weeks prior by the warmth of the kitchen fire. When he had failed to properly fold a shirt three times consecutively he gave up with a sigh and pulled up a chair. They sat in the steward's office, cramped between the two of them, but Sebastian didn't mind it. At the main estate he had grown into his position with Tanaka by his side, guiding him with wise words and a hard hand. Or, rather, a hard spoon. The close quarters felt companionable all the same.

"What are you working on?" he redirected, light blue eyes darting to the sheaf of paper in the caulist's hand. Sebastian smiled wryly and shook his head, letting the other man win temporarily.

"A Christmas list, more or less." He explained, ticking off the items one by one, making sure he hadn't left anything out. "Next Sunday it will be precisely five weeks until the holiday. It probably sounds as though I'm getting ahead of myself, but it does take a while for orders to go through in a timely fashion."

Agni cocked his head in genuine interest. It was a habit that Sebastian had picked up on quickly, one that always seemed to go along with his fellow butler's confusion about foreign habits. "What things need to be done?"

"You recall the last few years, I presume?" He asked, continuing at the resulting nod. "I need to check inventory for all of the current decorations and order anything that needs replacing. I'll have to call for the trees and choose a theme to decorate them with. I also need to make certain that all of the food will be available for the feast, and the orphanage needs to be contacted to make arrangements for the annual Phantomhive charity night. In addition to that, I need to write off an order to Louis Prang – he designs the company's lithograph holiday cards, we've gotten into the habit of sending them now that the Queen has taken favour to them. Along with that, I'll need to choose a design and order a set or two of calling cards for the holiday season that will carry my lord out into the New Year. Not that he travels extensively, but I might as well do the same for Master Soma, if you find it suitable?"

"Ah… yes, I believe that would make him feel better integrated." Agni nodded slowly, overwhelmed by the wealth of information. "While it isn't a tradition we celebrate, is there anything I might be able to aid with? It sounds as though you have a lot more than usual on your plate."

"Well," the demon smirked, raising from his seat and tugging on his jacket. "I suppose you could be in charge of getting mistletoe."

"Mistletoe?" the other blinked. "That's a plant, correct?"

"Ah, but mistletoe comes with its own tradition." Sebastian corrected wryly. "When two people pass under it, they are expected to kiss - you can thank pagans and their Loki for that. It is usually a tradition for_lovers_… and I believe I've allowed you long enough of a delay. You're avoiding my prior question."

The Bengal butler opened his mouth to retort but closed it with a look of defeat. "There's no getting around you, is there?" he sighed amicably, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can tell from the… _evening performances_ that you managed to confess successfully."

Sebastian grinned unabashedly in reply. _"So they _can_ hear us at night. It's practically thrilling; how good of them not to comment until now."_

"I believe 'success' is putting it mildly." He returned with a pointed look. "But I'm more interested in yours, if it is success at all, that is."

"It is!" Agni retorted, flushing slightly at the admission. "You know me, my friend; I keep to my word… even if I don't wish to."

"It was in your best interest."

"Yes, I truly think it was…." The other butler trailed off, much to his companion's amusement. He coughed and tugged down the collar of his sherwani, revealing a sizable purple bruise at the base of his neck. "If that's any indication." He muttered softly, quickly hiding the mark again.

Sebastian quirked a slender brow at him. "_Rather_ successful, I'm taking it. I apologize, friend, I believe I doubted you for a moment." Crimson eyes flashed to the thick collar then back to the butler's face. "Though really, it _is_ a wonder that he can keep quiet even from my range of hearing." Instantly Agni coughed in response to the blatant suggestion, not bothering to offer a correction. "I suppose then that people truly do live through two personas, mn?" Sebastian finished, smiling with feline satisfaction.

"I… I do suppose that can be the case, yes." The Indian nodded graciously, side stepping the flamboyant innuendos.

"I must thank you, though." The demon said, growing serious. The other blinked up at the change of expression, surprise fading into a trademark smile of benevolence as he registered the genuineness of his friend's words. "My life has incontrovertibly bettered as a result of my actions, and I have you to thank for emboldening me to act thus. I tease you, yet I am equally glad that you've found your happiness as well."

"_If anyone deserves this turn of events, it's certainly you."_ He finished, echoing his sentiments from the time before.

Agni offered a humble smile and returned to his laundry, a bit more cheerfully than before. "I am glad that it made a difference for you, Sebastian. I also thank you for your insistence in this matter: I doubt I ever would have approached such a topic otherwise."

Sebastian nodded in agreement and stretched before heading towards the door. A foreign flicker of indignation passed through him and he smirked, recognizing the distant emotions of his mate. _"Soma must be giving him hell over something."_

"Speaking of our masters," he pressed gently. "I believe I should go and attend to them now; they've sat with tea for twenty minutes or so unsupervised, so you know something must be transpiring."

His friend laughed and wished him luck in the endeavor, and within seconds Sebastian appeared upon the patio, already smirking as he registered the tart that had sailed past his master's ear – it was good to see the prince's youthful effect on Ciel. Before the occupants could notice him, he snapped to the earl's side, easily taking hold of his wrist as the pale fingers twitched forward to lob a pastry of his own.

Ciel blinked at the gentle force, staring at the gloved fingers as though genuinely puzzled how they came to be there. Slowly he looked up, sapphire eye clouded with disgruntled confusion. The butler merely laughed and moved the offending hand to cup the filigree edge of his saucer. "Now you weren't about to begin throwing food like a child now, were you master?"

The earl rolled his eyes at the demon's chiding tone, redirecting his gaze beyond the covered porch to the garden. Sebastian followed his gaze a moment, skimming over the scalloped hedges to the ornate rows of purple and white flowers, dotted here and there with blushing pinks and vibrant yellows. The petals swayed as the breeze toyed with them, unusually spry for the harshness of the British winter. The demon's horticultural talents had been the envy of many an aristocrat, ladies eagerly bustling through the manicured gardens while their husbands attended business indoors with the earl.

"_I don't know how you manage it!"_ they would gasp in wonder, stroking the healthy stems with their gloved fingers. _"My garden is always all withered and brown this time of year, no matter what I have planted. Truly you are gifted with this, Mr. Butler."_

Sebastian would always smile good naturedly and suggest a hearty decorative bush or two that he knew the ladies would never remember and turn them about to the green house for tea. He was adept, he supposed, at the art, but he knew that a large portion of his competency was borrowed. Demonic speed and agility led to boredom and Infinite boredom led to dedicating obscure knowledge to memory. He had leafed through page after page of botanical research and ladies magazines about flower culture. He knew the language of floral symbolism and had arranged grand gardens in accordance to it, willing the seeds to grow at an unnatural rate with a mere snap of his fingers. Granted, the fertilizer he stocked up on helped.

"_Wot've you gone an' planted for?"_ the mortician had casually asked some years prior.

"_I've read that natural beauty can alleviate depression."_ He had replied, flexing his bare fingers free of the ache he had acquired from manual work. He hadn't anticipated the regular way to be so taxing. _"The process is a bit… more involved than I had originally thought."_

"_Well tha's t'be expected when you're raisin' things."_ The undertaker smiled cheerfully, flopping over his desk. His head had lolled comically to one side. _"Though I suspect tha's a bit more'n you can manage, eh?"_

"_A tad, yes."_ The demon had nodded. _"We do have our own gardener now, though I fear that's really only in name… he still has a lot to learn, you see."_

"_Takin' in more for charity, I see!" _the other grinned, rolling back off the pedestal. Sebastian had snorted in indignation, only perpetuating the mortician's cheer. _"Come off it, guv. It's good t' see tha' in a demon these days."_ The butler opened his mouth with retort but was cut off prematurely. _"Now, I'm figurin' you'll need a good fertilizer. Granted, it's not my style – better to raise'm naturally, I say, we've so much time – but if it's for little Ciel's benefit, then I suppose it'll be fine. I can fetch you some from our world, on the other side."_

"_Mirror Side?"_ the demon queried.

"_The same. I get the feelin' tha' you're none too welcome there."_

"_And I suppose that'll cost something." _Sebastian had forcefully redirected. _"If it works, it won't be a one time job."_

"_Mn, as I figured. I do 'ave one thing I want in return – you know I've no interest in filthy money an' the like."_ With a nod he continued. _"Jus' tell me 'ow Ciel is doing, alright? Tha's all I ask."_

"_Ciel…?"_

"_I used t' see 'im regularly, you know."_ The undertaker quieted, smile waning. _"I suppose it's silly o' me, but I do miss 'im."_

Sebastian shook off the memory and began restocking the tea tray before him, lining up the scones and shortcakes in precise spiraling patterns. Otherworldly aides or no, there was only so much that he could manage. Soon winter's frost would set in and claim the supple stems, freeze the leaves until they curled and withered. There was something sobering in the fact, but something beautiful as well.

"That's a really impressive garden you've planted!" Soma spoke up, following his friend's gaze. He gave a wistful sigh and set aside his blankets. "Agni usually plants winter roses this time of year, but I really like the change! The purple colours are really very nice. Though…" With a jingle of bracelets, he rose from his seat and padded over the sheered lawn to the garden, squatting down beside a low growing plant with spindly branches. Finger-like purple blossoms hung from them like colourful moss, making it look not unlike a stunted tree. "This seems oddly out of place. Does it have a name?"

"Amethyst witch hazel," Sebastian answered, turning to the prince with feigned humility. Just because he cheated by human standards didn't mean he couldn't feel pride in his accomplishments. "The unique light purple colour is achieved through a cross of two other strains of the plant. It blooms well in colder weather such as this and produces a unique spiced aroma."

"_That, at least, will survive the climate."_ He smiled to himself, glancing quickly to his mate. Ciel ignored them both and continued sipping his tea. _"Yes, it's sturdy enough to endure."_

Soma nodded interestedly, nudging the base of the plant with a finger. There, clusters of lilacs blossoms with upturned petals grew skirted by thick patterned leaves. "And these two?" he asked, gesturing to the two main groups of flowering perennials. Sebastian smiled, noting the teen's genuine interest. He would have to bring that curiosity up to Agni… a small smirk curved onto his lips.

"A Mediterranean breed of cyclamen," he answered. "The deep pink offsets the witch hazel well, don't you think?"

"Uhn." The prince agreed, pointing excitedly between the cyclamen. Silvery stalks peered above the light petals, bells of periwinkle blossoms puffing out about them like fluffed cats tails. "But what about these?" he asked.

"_Ah. So you've noticed them?"_ the demon smiled warmly, feline pride mingling with affection as he turned his gaze to his master. Ciel stared up at him inquisitively, arching an eyebrow in silent curiosity. _"It's just for you, you know."_ He told him wordlessly.

"Those would be wild lupine," he answered aloud. "Indigenous to the east coast of North America; a difficult flower to breed here, considering it usually flourishes in warm, humid weather."

"Wuaah!" the teen gasped, peering closely at the healthy rows of blossoms. "And they grow so well in this soil, too! Isn't that difficult? How did you do that?"

"What would I be if I could not perform such a simple task?" the demon replied elusively, smirking at his trademark response. The evasion went completely unnoticed by the Bengal prince as he crouched among the flowers, gently prodded them this way and that to examine their form. Nimbly he turned back to his tray, feigning interest in arranging the bottom level of pastries while slipping a single tart into the center of his palm.

"That's so amazing, what do they usually –." The prince broke off, blinking down at the small confection that had collided with the back of his head. It sat innocently in the soil under his gaze. Slowly Soma looked up, beginning to grin. He scooped the tart up and shook it at Ciel playfully, acting like an older family member. "Very cheeky, Mr. Earl." He laughed chidingly. "And here I thought you were going to listen to your butler. Oh well!" He leapt up from his position in the shrubbery and dusted off his pants. Ciel watched, perplexed, as the teen approached. "I know when to take a hint!" the prince called smugly, quickly ducking back indoors. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone!"

"_Lovebirds_ –!" the earl echoed indignantly to the slamming back door. Sebastian watched in wry amusement as his mate waited on a reply that never came, settling in his seat with an embarrassed huff. Suddenly the wheels began to turn and his brow knitted into a furrow. Sebastian suppressed a laugh and bent down to refill his master's cup, avoiding the scowl aimed in his direction.

"And here you were accusing _me_ of being childish?"

The demon sent him a poorly veiled smirk, settling the kettle back on the table and arranging its cosy. "It's only natural to defend my master." He explained. "I was merely countering Soma's attack. Surely you'd understand that?"

The earl scoffed, throwing up his hands in exasperation in a manner Sebastian had come to identify was a trademark of the younger's Russian heritage. Amused, he watched his lover bundle his meritage blanket about his shoulders and stride towards the garden, not bothering to lift its plush edges from the lawn. The wicker chair rocked in his absence, steadily beckoning the demon to turn. He watched as Ciel paused in the place his friend had recently vacated, fingering a twisted branch of witch hazel.

"My lord?" he called to the November air. No response, only the slackening set of the shoulders bared to him.

"_Oh? Something bothers you, my darling?"_

"Ciel?" he asked softly, enveloping the defeated shoulders with his hands, pressing the small back to the warmth of his chest. The earl started, quickly melting against the embrace. With a whispering sigh, a gentle hand reached back and brushed the demon's cheek, the cold band of his ring stroking the equally frigid skin. Sebastian sighed in contentment, nuzzling the open palm gently as the blanket fell free of his mate's shoulders, gathering at their feet. He leant forward, encircling his arms about the younger, caressing over his chest and abdomen. Everything about Ciel was so beautiful and fragile, delicate scent made sweeter by the aroma of the garden. He pressed a kiss to the curve of the earl's neck, nuzzling gently.

Ciel made a soft sound and stroked his butler's cheek appreciatively, small smile fading as he stared at the sea of purple blossoms. "I just can't help but notice that the lupine will die soon." He whispered.

"Master?" Sebastian plied, gently inclining his lips to the other's ear. They stood in silence, the teen gazing introspectively at the flowers before he released the branch of witch hazel with a sorrowful sigh. The smile tweaked back on his lips, but it was forced, and Ciel sought shelter in his butler's hand, pressed their twined fingers over his heart.

"Despite the fact you've managed to have it bloom in these conditions, even _you_ can't keep it alive forever." He expressed softly, voice straining. There was the threat of salt – the promise of tears – but the earl swallowed resolutely, choking down the emotion. "When it snows, it will die."

"_So you know it too, darling?"_

The demon felt his heartbeat quicken in the stretching silence. His fear was nowhere near as immediate, and yet it was the same. He would decimate any threat, mercilessly, if that was what was called for. It didn't matter so long as it was to protect his mate or their kit. It didn't matter so long as his master willed it. He had sworn this to himself over the many sleepless nights, had vowed it between gasps and against heated flesh. He would sacrifice all of his being without complaint if it meant their security.

Yet – and the thought paralyzed him – the snows would come. He couldn't hold back all of the sand as it trickled down on their heads, ran out before his eyes. The kit, these feelings, it was all more than enough, more than he had ever hoped for himself. But it didn't negate the one horrid truth that he would suffer in silence, watching his beloved grow old at his side, be claimed by his mortality and interned in the solid ground. He couldn't save him alone from that fate: should he pray for it – and often he found himself tempted to try when the thoughts robbed him of his peace – then perhaps Ciel should desire to mate him in turn, to take in the blood of the caulist, to alter his own body and therefore perpetuate his own youth. Perhaps even the mixing of their blood in the form of their kit would be enough, flowing between mother and child and gifting the earl with supernatural ability. It was a pipe dream, he feared. He could not ask for any more sacrifice on Ciel's part, he had suffered more than enough.

Still, icy fear crept behind every hope. There was so much opportunity for things to go wrong, for their unusual bond to utterly destroy them. What place was there for them in the world? In the human one? In the demon one? He didn't know, pushed it from his mind when the anxiety took him, the hard cold reality that he decided would be bridged together when there was no other alternative than to analyze it. The snowy winter nights and hunger-pained memories reappeared, reminding him how far he had come.

"_Please."_ He begged silently. _"I don't want to be alone again."_

Subconsciously feeling the demon's sorrow, Ciel bore his neck to him, sighing as soft lips brushed his pulse and ghosted over their mate mark.

"It's a sad truth." The demon replied softly, as much to himself as to his mate. He stared at the iridescent bells and settled his chin against the other's shoulder, fingers gently stroking over his abdomen. "And the flowers will have an even smaller chance of reproducing properly in the spring without the presence of the karner blue."

"Karner blue?"

"A butterfly." Sebastian returned. "It depends on wild lupine as its food and home; and in return, the lupine it feeds upon is known to produce stronger plants in the next strain."

"I see." Ciel whispered, half-heartedly smiling. "I wouldn't suppose you'd have any American butterflies fluttering about here in the middle of November, would you?"

The butler smiled genuinely then, eyes already trained upon the multitude of closed winged creatures bracing themselves against the cold, nestled as petals amongst the array of purple and blue flowers. The earl cocked his head at the other's continued silence, craning his neck up to meet the contented feline smile. Wordlessly, Sebastian raised his chin and gestured lightly back towards the garden, delighting when his mate caught sight of the dozing creatures, breath catching in his throat with a soft, _"Oh…_"

A single karner blue wove up in sleepy patterns to nestle within the lupine, velveteen lapis wings draping back over its back as it hid among the blossoms. Ciel watched, wide eyed, as it settled down, distinguishable only by the snowy white exterior rim of its wings. The demon laughed pleasantly, feeling the racing heart beneath his fingers. He curled them about Ciel's and pressed them gently against his chest.

"I'd ask how you managed this…" the younger marveled. "But I suppose I already know the answer."

"And what would that be, hmm?" the caulist gently prompted, trailing a hand up over the flat planes of the earl's stomach to cup his cheek, turning him in to a shallow kiss. Ciel returned the affections with earnest, nuzzling noses with his butler as he pulled away, a smile gathering on his lips.

"That you're one hell of a butler?"

Sebastian smirked and nuzzled in return, pressing down for another kiss. "You know me all too well."

"I should hope." The younger murmured, reaching up to meet his lips. But a flurry of sound and the bold scent of mango lassi whirled him away from his mate, calmly resuming his fiddling with the teapot.

"_CIEL_!" Soma exclaimed, rushing into the gardens, chest barred with a common broom. Ciel blinked in confusion, quickly locating his butler with a grieved pout. The demon allowed a small smile and bent over the fine china, listening to the ensuing conversation as his senses roamed the estate. Two weeks – he hadn't forgotten. Surely it was the date the succubae had given them oh so _generously_. Yet nothing sinister lurked about the manor, no fresh scents of perfumed rose or orange blossom, no stench of decaying meat. For now, at least, they were safe. A foreign scent reached him, coupled with the musk of a horse. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, too strong for his feline palate.

"_So they've sent a messenger."_ He determined.

"What is it, Soma?" the earl demanded exasperatedly, folding the discarded blanket over his arm and beating the soil from it. The prince quailed slightly, still pacing from foot to foot as he nervously surveyed the garden.

"There's a suspicious looking man here!" he barked in anxious earnest. Sebastian nodded to himself, striking a match beneath the kettle. He could hear the frown in the Indian's tone, confirming his suspicions. "He says he has a message for you, Ciel."

"Oh?" the earl ground dangerously. The butler glanced over to him, just long enough to meet with enraged cobalt blue before deferring to his task of preparing the tea. Feigned disinterest. The earl seemed to understand the silent exchange: _This is not a threat_.

" –such a grubby man, too! Nothing but a cabby attempting to weasel his way onto the Phantomhive London estate – hah!" the prince boasted loudly. "Not while the great Soma Asman Kadar is around to protect his best friend's –."

"Cabby?" the earl interjected with sudden intensity. Sebastian grumbled to himself, recalling the bloke. He had appeared before with the overly friendly brunette – _Cosette_, he supplied. He was indeed shabby and undoubtedly coarse in demeanor as well. It was a peculiar match for a succubus: a disheveled human with an average quality cab.

"_He must be a drunkard, else he would wise up about his situation."_ He determined as he measured out the tea leaves. _"I swear I'll have to watch everything he comes in to contact with at least twice."_

" –if he's one of the villains attempting to take the life of my best friend and his unborn baby, I'll show him the spirit of a _true_ friend!"

"Didn't you realize he was with Mademoiselle Brun?" the earl snapped coldly. The prince froze, eyes widening comically. "The woman you so adored not two weeks ago?"

"_No_." Soma gaped, letting his poor choice of a weapon clatter to the ground. "You can't be serious, can you Ciel? I mean, I thought Mademoiselle was –."

"You thought incorrectly." The earl shook his head tersely. The demon paused, awaiting his orders. The silver in his hand bent with a tremor of strength, contorting the spoon in half. It was tempting, oh so tempting, not to make an example of the disgusting man lounging at their door step.

"_Pathetic."_ He spat. _"I could twist your limbs; bend them in all the wrong directions, splinter every last bone in your body. It would be so simple so _satisfying_. I wonder what your mistresses would say to that?"_

"Do not show him in." Ciel ordered, hands balled into fists at his sides as he strode past his animated friend. "We'll meet him in the front."

"Understood." The demon replied, slightly relieved that their state would remain spotless of contamination. "Master Soma, if you would please?" he indicated to the manor politely, gesturing for him to return inside. The prince nodded distractedly and followed the butler's instruction, closing the door behind him.

At the click of the door, the earl hissed in frustration, turning fitfully.

"My lord?"

"I am a fool." He spat, tangling fistfuls of hair. "I've been so –." He shot the demon a dark look, quickly glancing away in distress and shame. Sebastian watched silently, knowing any consolation he offered would be momentarily rejected. A flicker of guilt arose in his chest: he should have at least mentioned his intentions to his mate, to let him know that he would fight on his behalf. "I have done nothing to prepare for this and I was _well aware_ of what was –."

"_At stake, yes."_ The demon finished, cutting off the stream of words with a firm kiss, fingers brushing reassuringly against the earl's back and cheek. "Do not worry, darling." He breathed aloud, pressing kiss after kiss to his lover's lips, filling him with little reassurances. "What kind of butler would I be if I could not protect my lord?" Gently he scooped up the earl's fingers and pressed the tips to his lips. "The messenger is none of your concern, my lord. If I may accompany you to the front gardens?"

Ciel nodded stiffly and followed the butler back through the manor. They traveled in relative silence, peppered with Soma's occasional offerings of moral support or proclamations of loyalty, not unlike an anxious dog trailing its master's heels. The outbursts went unheeded and before long they were at the front door. Agni stood before them patiently, bandaged hand pressed against the frame, easily towering over the squat cabby standing just outside. The acrid scent of tobacco swept into the manor with the winter winds and Sebastian scowled, wrinkling his nose against the pervasive scent. The man tapped his foot impatiently, looking around the Indian butler to peep inside the house, eyeing the finery that the demon doubted he had ever had privilege to see before.

Agni stepped back and turned to the Phantomhive with narrowed eyes, not bothering to force pleasantries with the unwanted guest. "Mister McKinstry has a message he would like to relay to you, Ciel." He said curtly, clearly torn between storming away from the cabby and pummeling him until he was black and blue. Sebastian shot him a sympathetic look, quickly distracted as the McKinstry fellow guffawed and tossed the butt of his cigar, grinding it upon the marble tile with his heel.

"_Oh you fucker."_ He growled, bristling at the display of uncleanly impropriety. _"Well scratch out my relief about not having to clean up after the pig."_

"Quit wif the formalities, you King Lear." The man snorted, burrowing a sausage-like hand into the lapels of his coat. With a surprising amount of care he extracted a snowy white envelope stamped with a crest of cobalt wax. With much less care – Sebastian suspected the parcel was to remain pristine under pain of death – he shoved the letter towards the earl, aiming him a wide grin of gnarled teeth. "This is fer the li'le guv." He leered.

Sebastian watched as his master carefully accepted the envelope, certain not to touch the cabby's grimy hand. He flipped it over in his hands, _Earl Phantomhive_ scrawled on the cover in thin blue ink written in the same hand as the previous correspondences. The butler pressed slightly closer, eager to unveil the identity of the second succubus. When the teen flipped to the envelopes reverse, the demon could make out the characters on the shield: a Saint Andrew's cross topped with three small fleur de lis.

"_So she's Irish, hmn?"_ he analyzed, turning coldly to the cabby. "Will that be all, Mister McKinstry?" he asked with forced politeness, placing a hand over his master's shoulder. The stout man watched the action with crude interest, saying nothing. "Unless," the demon continued forcefully, smiling with disturbing benevolence. "You've chosen to further taint my master's home?"

The man snorted at the front, turning on heel with a wave of his hand as he shuffled away from the threshold. Without parting salutations, Agni slammed the door resolutely behind him, beckoning for his own master to come out of hiding from behind the banister. The prince squeaked as the force rattled the paintings hanging along the walls, sneaking forward and peering over the edge of his broom at the conspicuous letter.

"What did he want?" Soma asked, voice dimming to the demon's ears as he sped through the manor, absence unnoticed by its human occupants. He pushed open the bedroom door, scanning the chamber for a familiar object. His eyes locked on the bureau, smirking when he noticed that it had begun to list to the side from undue amounts of stress. At the base of one wobbly leg was an upended parcel.

"_There."_ Deftly he collected the letter opener, unsheathing it and returning to his master's side, moving only a fraction from his prior location. The knife fell casually into the earl's expectant hand and he did not miss the wry smile that crossed the teen's face as his silent order was fulfilled. The blade slid seamlessly beneath the wax seal, an unsettling reminder of how lethal the unorthodox present truly was.

Sebastian watched intently as his mate extracted the letter, disgusting amounts of perfume wafting from the elegant stationary. _"Lilies."_ He identified with a wry sniff. _"The classical symbol of eroticism. How fitting."_ The earl flattened the pages in his hands and he and his butler inclined to read the sloping hand:

_Dearest Earl Phantomhive,_

_Seeing as you have only met in person with my colleague Cosette, I feel that now would be an appropriate time as any to introduce myself. My name is Leona Fitzpatrick, and I was quite fortunate to see you and your handsome butler strolling about London's shopping district on Sunday, October 8. However, I was upset to discover – through my keen sense of smell – that you were harboring the offspring of said butler. In the community of our kind, it is considered a rarity that a demon (or incubi, aisling, & etc.) would allow his human mate to carry its halfling child without killing one or both, let alone stay by the human's side! While you are very blessed to have such a kind butler by your side, I regret to inform you that while you may look upon this practice as natural and endearing, it is a great threat to both yourself as well as the community of our kind._

_This being said, my colleague and I have taken it upon ourselves to relieve you of the child as early as possible. I assure you that most of our kind would not have such mercy upon you – if any others were to discover your situation, both you and the child would have been killed immediately upon the London street. Keeping this in mind, both Cosette and I are terribly upset that our earlier attempts to intervene were unsuccessful. As my colleague stated upon her earlier visit, you were to be given two weeks to come upon a decision. Regretfully, we have not heard from you since then and must assume that you are still with child. Though the agreement comes to an end tomorrow, we are extending another hand to you today. At three post meridiem, Cosette and I will be awaiting you and your butler's presence at the Kensal Green Cemetery at the Anglican chapel. Perhaps here we will be able to settle upon a compromise?_

_Regards,_

_Leona N. Fitzpatrick_

Sebastian suppressed a growl in the base of his throat as the letter was quickly crumpled into his offered hand. Ciel strode forward irately, lips trembling in anger as the butler folded the note into the folds of his coat.

"Well?" Soma prompted, looking between the two anxiously. Agni stood close behind him, a hand placed on his master's shoulder to keep him from incessant pacing.

"As Miss Fitzpatrick so charmingly put," Ciel explained thinly. "She has requested my presence at Kensal Green Cemetery at three in the afternoon, where she and her 'colleague' plan to murder me."

"WHAT?" the prince spluttered, speaking on behalf of both he and his butler. "Ciel! You can't just let her do that! You're staying here, with Agni and me!"

"_And 'I'."_ Sebastian sighed, watched the impassioned prince embrace his mate, for once not jealous at the proximity.

"Sebastian can go to Kensal Green and take care of those awful Rakshasa and you won't ever have to set a foot into such a dange –."

"_I wish it were that simple."_

"Out of the question." The demon countered decisively. He felt Agni tense as he looked between his friend and their masters, silently questioning his logic.

"But Sebastian, my friend, it would be foolish to –." He plied worriedly, trailing off as the demon held up a patient hand with a shake of his hand.

"I'm afraid that this is not a situation in which I can be separated from my lord." He explained heavily. "While I far from doubt your abilities, I fear that the aggressors may be expecting such a turn of events. If I arrive at the cemetery by myself, it's possible that they may have…" His mind flashed back to his chance encounter with a particular redheaded reaper, silently wondering if such a scenario had already been in place. "_Reinforcements_ from others within their 'community' waiting to attack the manor."

"But those are all just possibilities!" Soma protested, still smothering the earl to his chest. Disgruntled, Ciel pushed away and retreated to the demon's side, determined to argue his case. The butler smiled at the small display, quickly intervening.

"Sebastian kn –."

"Forgive me for sounding straightforward or arrogant, but I am the only one who can properly protect Master Ciel." He arranged simply with a smirk. Said earl flushed with a contented smile as his foreign friends gasped in surprise. The demon hummed with amusement, placing a hand on his mate's shoulder and seeking his acceptance.

"_I hadn't meant to voice your name aloud. Have I truly grown that used to using it? Your name feels so good on my lips; I can't help but enjoy how it feels to say before others. Such a change that is."_

"I apologize for interrupting, my lord." He said lowly. "Or if I am outside of my boundaries by using –."

"No matter." The teen waved off, turning to his butler with an unusually soft look. "I agree with you." Warmth blossomed in the demon's chest at the public display of affection and he fought the very catlike urge to nuzzle his mate's neck profusely with gratitude. He realized that the shock must have registered in his expression, for Ciel gave a gentle laugh, small smile never wavering. He realized how scandalous their behavior would seem to most company but disregarded the notion on account of his insight. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Agni shaking his head good naturedly, delighting in his friend's happiness.

Soma piped up, rubbing his hands together with an intent set. "Even so! If we're dealing with something stronger than both Agni and Sebastian, then there's no way we're letting you go alone." The others looked at him uncertainly and he faltered, letting his hands drop back to his sides. "No way…"

"I suppose the extra protection would not go un-useful." Ciel consented, sending his butler a deliberate glance.

"_We have to remove them from the property immediately."_

"What do you think, Sebastian?"

The demon nodded instinctually, knowing it was the answer his master sought. A small burst of pride filled him and being blatantly asked for his input all the same, and he knew that Ciel was right. Memories of petty threats still danced around his head. That was one scene they didn't need to return home to – the psychological side effects on his mate were bound to be deep given his already dark past.

"Whatever my lord feels would be best – I do think, however, that it would be unwise of us to leave anyone here unguarded due to the threat of a third party."

"Then the four of us shall travel to Kensal Green together?" Agni rejoined, looking about the assembled for confirmation. Soma nodded enthusiastically, turning to his companions for direction.

"So what's our course of action?" he asked, holding up his fists playfully, happy to be included in something for a change.

Sebastian gave him a piteous look. _"Don't get too excited, pup. I'll be damned if I let you see some action – you'd be dead in mere seconds. Your loyalty is admirable… I can tell that you're truly afraid. Please just listen close."_

"We depart for Kensal Green in one hour and attempt peaceful negotiations." Ciel declared. "If things do not smooth over following those events… then we shall have to see." He said with unnerving ambiguity. "Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Prepare a carriage."

* * *

**EDIT:** This chapter has had the lemon scene edited out of it so that the story is not removed from the site. For the full version, see my main page.


	8. Papilio Troilus

"**Together Again"**

**Chapter Eight**

**Papilio Troilus**

_"__I've come undone,_

_But you make sense of who I am_

_Like puzzle pieces in your eye._

_Then I'll see your face, I know I'm finally yours_

_I find everything I thought I lost before_

_You call my name, I come to you in pieces_

_So you can make me whole.__"_

RED (Pieces)

The carriage pulled short before the entrance of Kensal Green, horses whinnying as Sebastian reigned them. He swung from his seat and held open the door, offering his hand as first Ciel and then Soma stepped out onto the cobblestone street of Harrow Road. They stretched the stiffness from their limbs and marveled at the giant arch of the entrance lodge, alabaster white and flanked with doric columns. Beyond, one could see the twisted wrought iron of the fence, spear tipped in gold, casually segregating even the dearly departed.

Sebastian had been to The Green on multiple occasions during his tenure as Phantomhive House Steward. The site had enjoyed the patronage of volumes of aristocracy and poets, famous names dotted among the various headstones and wept over by marble angels in repose. The services were always the same, Protestant in nature with lengthy scripture readings bemoaning the sins of human existence while black veiled mourners gathered about a freshly dug grave, heady with tears and soil and the priest's musty and worn Bible. His master never cried at these events, staring impassively ahead as the coffins were interred – distant relatives, business partners, the aging ladies of society – lost, it seemed, in his own dark memories.

But there were no bystanders and the quilted sky warned of the coming rain. The acres of flat land remained undisturbed, the damp chill of the air spiced only with the earthy tones of evergreens and scattered flora made sparse by the onset of winter. All was still, unnervingly still, with no witnesses or possible aid: the succubae had done well in clearing the area. A steady flicker came from a low window of the entrance lodge, the only indication of the fidgeting funeral director within, undoubtedly bracing himself from the cold and the supernatural beings converging on his property.

"_They must have bought him off or threatened him."_ The demon noted. _"I wonder how many services he was forced to cancel today; surely Undertaker would never have submitted to such petty threats."_ He glanced over their ragtag group: a caulist and three humans, two of which could protect themselves to some moderation. It was a dismal realization. _"We could really use him right about now: what all could a paper knife truly amount to?"_

Agni drew to his side as fat raindrops rolled from the sky, pattering against the drive in an unsteady rhythm. "I know it isn't of much consolation," he said in a low undertone. "But should it come to it, I have your back."

The demon turned, wide-eyed. "While it's appreciated, I certainly don't –."

"I don't doubt your skill, my friend." Agni interjected, and Sebastian noticed how tired his eyes looked so close up. "But this is a matter worth giving my life over, should the situation call for it. We're all at risk here, and you'd be blind to think you're the only one who cares for Master Ciel, or that he is the only one who cares for you." With a small smile he parted from the demon's side, placing a hand on his master's shoulder and leading him towards the cemetery.

Sebastian stared after him a moment, uncertain of the feeling in his chest. _"Now isn't the time to worry about sentimentality, even if I am beyond grateful that I have his support."_ He chided himself, rejoining the group as his mate adjusted his Smith and Wesson, shielding the ammunition from the elements with his coat as he locked the pistol with a snap. _"I wish that toy were more of a reassurance."_ He thought a bit distantly, forcing back the multitude of horrid images creeping into his mind's eye. _"Undertaker was right; at the most it will delay them for a few seconds. But if it can buy enough time…"_

"How far is the Anglican chapel?" Ciel asked, stormily observing the arch.

"It can't be too far!" Soma cut in with a hopeful smile. Sebastian allowed him to continue, pitying the friendly display of bravado. "It's all flat and you should be able to see it once we get in there; it's the one in the middle, right? Shouldn't be too much of a wa –."

"Shut_ up._" The earl barked, affixing the prince with a murderous look. "Have you any idea what I'm risking bringing you along?"

Soma recoiled against his butler's side, averting his eyes from the enraged Phantomhive. Agni glanced to Sebastian and placed a sympathetic hand on his charge, snapping open an umbrella over their heads as the drops pitter pattered with greater earnest. "Perhaps we should remain outside?" he ventured, easing at the demon's apologetic look.

"It would be unwise." Sebastian returned, pushing open his own umbrella, from whose shelter his master soundly denied. He sighed, watching as Ciel resolutely approached a lodge door, scanning for hidden attackers beyond the reach of his limited human senses. _"Clever of you, my darling."_ The demon silently praised, gently turning the earl back under the protection of the umbrella. "They're empty." He softly assured. "As is the rest of the cemetery."

Casually he inclined his head and sampled the air for his mate's peace of mind. "I smell no one other than us and several other presences within," A dark thought crossed his mind and he scowled. "Unless the succubi have taken extra precautions to mask the scents of any potential allies, they have done well to keep this place free of all onlookers."

"How fortunate for us." The earl bit back, fingers winding and unwinding small knots in his clothing. Gently the butler loosened the kneading palms, smoothing them still with the pad of his thumb. He curled an arm about the younger's shoulders, turning him towards his chest to whisper against his ear.

"You should relax, darling." He soothed. "You have done wonderful so far when dealing with Mademoiselle Brun; hold your head up high, do no buckle below their words and above all else," he pulled away, speaking as much to his mate as the others. "Do not let them know you are afraid. Your confidence is key." He smiled briefly as the earl joined his side, brushing the back of his hand in a subtle gesture of support against his leg. "Well then, my lord – shall we?"

Stiffly the quartet made their way beyond the broad entrance, traveling past the rows of privet hedge and wrought iron, heading westward towards the Anglican segment of the lot.

"_Mujhē ḍara laga rahā hai._" Soma whimpered, pressing close to his butler.

"_Mata ḍarō, mērē pyāra._" Agni returned quietly. _"Maiṁ tumhārī rakṣā karēgā._"

Sebastian allowed a small smile, detecting the word he had come to understand as 'love' and nuzzled the side of his mate's hip with a finger. The earl brushed nearer as the path bled out to gravel and dirt, softening beneath their feet as the rain seeped into the loose soil. The Centre Avenue stretched before them, smoothing over acres pocked with crooked gravestones and obelisks, spires extending towards the overcast heavens. The plots spread out at random; veins of markers coagulating in one area or another, stray headstones standing solitary beneath a young chestnut tree or near a copse of hemlock. It was chaotic, yet still beautiful, the silent marble angels and maidens casting oblong shadows as they observed the small procession. The Green rolled on ever still, stretching to the banks of the Grand Union Canal, and scurrying the other direction against the main road, it's placid blanket of lawns innocently sheltering the array of catacombs below.

As they drew nearer, the footpath split off for a third time into northerly and southerly arms, beckoning them to stray from their mission and stroll amongst the dead a bit longer whilst they still had the chance. The graveyard grew thicker then, Grecian goddesses bearing guardian to family vaults, flowers blossoming at their feet and teeming around the bases of their landlords. The cemetery was only a scant sixty years old, yet nature had claimed its hold, gentle tendrils of ivy embracing the walls of noble sepulchers, wind-blown leaves strewn across their checkered floors, silken spider webs dressing their ornate doors like delicate lace.

The rain fell heavier and the Centre Avenue turned to mud beneath their shoes, squelching loudly in the silence of the graveyard. The indications of recent life washed away under their assault: the pointed tracks of ladies boots, the mottled press of horseshoes, and the heavily traveled divots of hearses who left behind ruts from their wheels. The rain erased it all, stranding them with nothing but the already immortalized and resting.

They made their way around the central circle, intersected into neat quarters by the crossing paths, drawing them in towards the chapel looming straight ahead. Wind buffeted its impassive face, alabaster and elegant, a model of something ancient and noble. A simple set of steps led up to colossal Grecian columns that ran along the length of the building, extending to the wing-like colonnades that bent back into two giant L's. Its pointed roof punctured the sky, as though in its inanimateness it too was supplicating a god.

The circle broke as the path breached towards the chapel, a single weathered oak standing sentinel beside them. The tight grip on the earl's cane faltered as he detected movement in the sweeping branches, scent pricking with fear and alarm. Sebastian stared straight ahead, steadying his mate with a firm grip as he paid no mind to the harpy casually observing them from the tree. The combined efforts of the wind and rain carried away the scent of rotting carrion, leaving only the soft clatter of its beak as indication of its presence.

A fresh wave of orange petal drifted to him as the slight form of Cosette appeared from between the chapel's giant wooden doors. A small pink smirk scrawled over her lips as she took them in, folding an edge of her golden skirt over a lace covered hand. "He's happy to see you!" she called, drawing the rest of the group's attention. Sebastian arranged his features into impeccable indifference as she flashed a smug look his way. "We've missed you, dear earl!" she winked, the heels of her boots clicking over the white stone steps as she came to greet them. Ciel sneered at her display, showing the repulsion his butler equally carried. "La, I hope you don't mind that we took cover in the chapel?" the succubus continued, undeterred. "My parasol was getting terribly wet and I didn't want to risk sullying my skirt – Ooooh!"

Soma ushered a near inaudible whimper as Cosette rounded on he and his butler, noticing their presence as if for the first time. He locked his legs and grit his teeth in determination, visibly trying to puff himself up against her innocent façade. She giggled at him and twirled her sopping wet parasol, flinging water droplets everywhere from its impracticable lace covering. "And you've brought your friends straight to us!" she crooned. "How kind of you, earl! It surely does save us the trouble now, doesn't it?"

"_And she says it all with that cruel little smile."_ The demon internally raged. _"If I'm lucky I'll get to personally twist them into screams of pain."_

"As if there was any way we'd let you use us as pawns in your game, you demon woman!" Soma cried out in defense. The coquettish smirk fell from Cosette's face immediately.

"_Publically spurned yet again, I see?"_ Sebastian commented, eyes sparking with demonic glee. _"Mn, it's delightful to see how these words seem to tear at your psyche."_

Agni was already reaching forward, uttering soft Hindi pleas for his master to remain silent. The prince ignored them, emboldened by his own passionate declarations. "I don't _care_ what you're capable of, you witch! I'll do my best to protect my friends until the very end!"

The succubus gaped at him, an odd flush creeping over her cheeks before she threw back her head of brunette ringlets and laughed, peals of high pitched giggles raking shivers down the demon's spine. She threw the heel of her lace covered palm to her mouth, stifling the majority of the sound, but drawing with it the needle thin tang of blood. Sebastian stilled, watching the strange woman convulse with laughter as peculiar waves of _anger_ rolled off of her shaking frame. She threw her hand aside – _"She bit it, the wounds are just now closing."_ – smiling thinly at the prince. The scent of blood receded as she balled her hand and brought it to her face, resting her cheek upon the upturned palm. "La! H-how charming!" she jeered through dying laughs. "What a sweet display of affection, my little friend."

Soma squared his shoulders and met her with a glare, abandoning his reason for bravery. "Master Soma." Agni pressed, unhinging the tenseness of the prince's shoulders with gentle hands. He continued in whispers that just reached Sebastian's acute senses. "It would not be wise to make such retorts in the presence of this woman…"

"Your butler is right," Cosette crowed, grinning pretentiously as the Indian duo gave a small start. Heavy wing beats drew their eyes from the succubus as the harpy emerged from its oak, turning in a graceless arc over their heads to settle behind its mistress. It landed haphazardly with a loud screech, ruffling its molting feathers as it regained balance, still handicapped from losing its eye to Sebastian's claws. Inwardly he smirked at the injured creature, the mere shell of its former glory, yet even more dangerous in its dilapidated state. He watched it settle its curved beak over Cosette's shoulder, dwarfing her by comparison, as though urging her to continue. She offered it a motherly pat, slightly spryer as she turned her attentions back on the group. "We have no time for such exchanges at the moment. My Leona is a busy woman and would like to finish the matter at hand as quickly as possible. Now, then!" she cheered, discarding the parasol with a clap of her hands. It rolled down the great steps and landed in the mud unimportantly. "If you'd please, earl?" she asked with the politeness of a hostess, indicating to the wide chapel doors. "Miss Fitzpatrick would like to have a word with you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian saw his master give a curt nod, looking up to ask for accompaniment. But the caulist refused to return the look, carefully examining the proud succubus. Ciel eased out of his tense stance and proceeded forward, and Sebastian instantly ghosted beside him, busy calculating.

"_She's smiling now."_ He registered as they mounted the stairs. _"They planned to split us up all along; they don't think Ciel will be able to protect himself without my aide. And if that's the case, then are they leaving our friends to the snatcher? Surely Agni can handle that overfed turkey, after the number I've done on it. Please let him notice this too, let them prepare themselves before –."_

But his train of thought derailed as Cosette brandished an open palm, creating a barrier between him and his mate with her arm. "Alone." She enunciated slowly, pink lips pulling into a thin sugared line. The earl froze at the word and Sebastian nearly snarled. It was as he had anticipated, but their close proximity quelled his own anxieties, knowing at the least that he could bash her skull against the marble walls of the building.

"Out of the question –."

"Unless you'd like me to open him up here, _dearest_?" hissed between closed teeth, pricks of scarlet darkening her stormy irises as she returned the demon's glower. As if in emphasis, the protesting pops of lace slitting open announced the extension of her claws, darker and thinner than Sebastian's own, glinting as beads of rain rolled off their pointed tips. His lips twitched into an automatic snarl, and the succubus snickered at the small sign of anxiety, tugging the earl roughly by the shoulder to separate him further from his demon.

"You'll be talking to _me_." She crooned madly, nodding eastwards where the Dissenter's chapel stood. "In there. And Miss Fitzpatrick will be conversing with our dear earl in there." She shrugged a shoulder to the building behind them, darkened grey eyes never leaving the demon's face.

Ciel cocked his chin, staring ahead towards the wooden doors, prepared to face the woman whom Sebastian had never even seen. "I'll go ahead inside." He announced evenly, lips tightening at his companion's sounds of dismay. "I'd like to meet Miss Fitzpatrick once and for all."

"Of course." Cosette replied, quivering with anticipation. Silkily, she dropped her hold on the earl and wound herself about Sebastian's arm, half-exposed breasts pressed to his stiff form, kittenish smile never leaving her lips as she stared down the teenager in triumph. "Well then, Sebastian?" she crooned, not bothering to look to him for confirmation. "Let's begin."

With a surprising amount of strength she began to tug him down the steps, hand still laced through his arm in a mockery of ladylike behavior. Unable to defy her whims, he caught up to her pace, placing a firm hand over hers and squeezing it roughly, taking control of their pace. She giggled in delight, not at all put off by his intentions to harm her, and pressed closer against his side. He watched warily as she tucked her soggy hair of brunette curls to his shoulder, lost in some vision where they were taking a pleasant stroll through a park rather than a forced exile through a rainy cemetery.

He sent a last look over his shoulder, eyes instantly locking with Ciel's.

"_Be brave."_ He willed. _"You can survive this, we both can."_

With a small nod of finality, the earl turned away from him and looked to the doors. A jealous tug and Sebastian tore his eyes away, glaring down at the woman attached to his side. The black chiffon of her dress clung to her breasts, golden bodice already streaked with ugly stains of water. "Interested, are you?" she smirked, catching his glance.

"Not in the slightest." He grit back.

"Oh?" she countered, tipping her head to the side and letting her hair fan about a shoulder. "I thought you might have been reconsidering, assessing what I – what Leona and I both – have to offer."

Sebastian remained silent, deciding it in his best favour to let the childish woman assume whatever she wished to as he felt the earl's scent grow fainter and fainter. The rain hadn't let up, plastering their hair and clothes to their bodies uncomfortably as they wound their way through the muddy paths. Again, the angels watched them pass, but now the rain trekked down their dirty cheeks, looking as though streaming from their pupil-less eyes. Unnerved, the butler averted his gaze, intent on finding a loophole in the situation.

"_If I can shake Cosette, then I can make it back to the chapel unhindered. Then there's the harpy to deal with; I've not heard any sounds of battle, so I can assume that it retreated back to its tree. That also means that no other beings are present, otherwise they'd have taken Soma and Agni by now: the snatcher is the one keeping an eye on them. If I force them to divert the bird's attention, then I can slip in easily before either it or Cosette has a chance to attack, leaving me to deal with Leona one-on-one. If I'm quick enough –."_

"What's on your mind, _dearest_?" the succubus piped up, humming the term of endearment with sickening fervor. "You seem all moody and distracted, it's most unbecoming of a handsome face such as yours, you know."

"Is it?" he replied thinly. "I wonder what reason I could have to feel that sort of way."

"Well I don't know!" Cosette retorted, bottom lip curling into a pout. "We're doing everything in our power to help you, you insufferable man. Dealing with that wretched human pet you've been keeping. Really now, there's no need to punish yourself like that because things got all complicated. It was chivalrous to stay, certainly, and _yet_," her grip tightened uncomfortably and Sebastian knew she could very well snap his arm in two. "You denied a golden opportunity to free yourself of such obligations! When Leona and I so _kindly_ invited you to stay in the very_ lap_ of luxury – not to mention it would have spared the life of that _stupid_ little earl." She sneered as the demon turned his face from hers, taking it as introspection. "Do you regret it now? Now that it's too late? I told you that you'd regret your very words. Did I not? You do now, don't you?"

"I have some regrets, yes." He replied vaguely.

"_I regret not killing you when I had the chance, I'm sure Undertaker would've taken delight in winding that lovely hair of yours into wreaths and my, wouldn't your intestines have made lovely food for the worms? I wonder what sickening things would have bloomed out of you, it would have been certain to make an interesting garden. Such a pity I missed the opportunity."_

"See!" Cosette trilled, giggling with manic triumph. "Oh, you're sorry now, aren't you? You men are all alike, all pigheaded! I knew what was best for you, and you–! _Oh_ what did you do? Called me _trash,_ I believe? A _rodent_? You should be groveling for forgiveness now, house cat! Perhaps if you do a good enough job I can get Leona to forgive you as well and you can stay with us – _experienced_ women who won't wither away with age like your human pet would have done."

"_Would have done. You _dare_ to speak about my mate like he's already dead, as though you are some replacement I should be grateful for. I will bleed you dry, you miserable whore."_

"I believe you to be confused." He spoke evenly. The succubus quirked her head towards him, wide eyed and looking like a drowned porcelain doll. "As you've so eloquently pointed out, I am a cat, and therefore I am above _begging_. That aside, if you're so inclined to have me for yourself – beg pardon, for you _and_ Leona – then would you really want me without my pride? If I merely tossed that aside and groveled, as you so put it, then I would not be the same creature at all. What satisfaction would there be to you in that? You'd simply tire of me and cast me aside. Such a waste, don't you agree?"

The cogs began turning in Cosette's mind as her brows knitted into a frown. Pouting lips jerked upwards into a fanged grin as her spirit returned. "Valid point, _mon cher_, it would be far more exciting to break you myself." She shivered against him out of either anticipation or cold. "My, all of the house rules you'd have to learn, and all of the _routines_. We'd be sure to keep you busy, of course."

"Naturally."

"But not only at night, of course: I've missed having a proper wake up call." She chuckled, tucking her lips to his bicep and planting a kiss to it. The landscape fell away to fields of rolling lawn, the arch of the entrance lodge looming ever nearer as they made their way to the dissenter's end. The decorative fence slid further into focus with each step, still needle thin and wavering with distance.

"_Not much longer, and I'll make my move."_ The demon determined, scanning for an escape route. _"There must be something here that I can use to my advantage, to give me a bit of a head start."_

The chapel crouched behind a stand of tall trees, smaller in stature than its brethren with shorter colonnades fanning out to the sides. Ionic pillars with iconic swirled Grecian heads flanked its exterior, a sad Parthenon parody standing guard over a scant collection of headstones, shepherded in by the dividing gate of The Green.

"_I could use some strategy and wisdom about now, Athena."_ Sebastian thought dryly, casting about. _"I'm running out of both time and land. Something, there _must_ be something around here."_ The squat headstones stared back at him, utterly uninviting and baring no place to hide. To hide. _"That's it! Thank you, you crazy bastard, else I'd never have thought of it."_

It had been at a smaller cemetery, an hour or so after a service for some noble man or woman the demon hadn't known or bothered to remember. The mourners had dispersed, stepping up into their own private carriages, horses bedecked in black swags fit for the occasion. Ciel had managed to be relatively sociable, thanks in part to a mission ordered by the Queen, his shrewd words double edged as he pressed subtle details from the guests. Lizzie had yet to return home, clinging to his side with every step, doing her best to look mature and wife-like, and to his credit, Ciel had kept his patience with her. Otherwise distracted, this had allowed Sebastian the unusual chance to wander about of his own accord, never too far in case of danger, but distant enough to gain of a sense of freedom.

The particular cemetery had been rife with family tombs, great marble sepulchers fitted with stained glass and decorate gates or burnished doors. They perched between the lesser graves, some atop hills, and others looming beside small benches and fountains. At his side walked another man, a familiar to the grounds, and for a time they said nothing, simply enjoying the mild April weather. "Tha' is a good avenue." Undertaker had motioned, jabbing one sleeve-covered hand to a winding lane of crypts over which a grassy hill had grown, creating a narrow little alley. So the pair had turned and ventured down it, edged in from either side with a Brown here and a Davies there, sometimes by the usual Edwards or Lewis.

Sebastian had been admiring the bronze cupids inside a lover's crypt when the mortician had paused curiously, head lolled dramatically to one side. "What is it?" the demon asked absently, examining the dates inscribed.

"People, I think."

"Yes, there do tend to be people about when it comes to cemeteries. Dead ones, too."

"They're comin' this way." Undertaker insisted, and that time the demon paused to listen as well, picking up on the heavy footfalls of a group of men hurrying towards the lip of the alley. "Tha's curious, don't you think? Who needs t' run in a graveyard?"

"Shall we find out?"

"No' like this, we aren't." the embalmer chuckled, ramming his palm against the gates of the crypt and pulling the butler inside by the front of his vest. Dazed, Sebastian brushed flat against the wall, now quite able to see the cupid's detailing, along with the cobwebs stretched over it. Undertaker has deftly pulled the gates back closed until they appeared undisturbed and mimicked the butler against the opposing wall.

"How did you know it would open?" Sebastian asked lowly, attentive to the oncoming rustle of men's feet.

"I didn't." Undertaker replied gleefully.

"We're inside someone's _crypt_." The demon said, suddenly aware of his company. "Doesn't that bother _you_ of all people? You're eccentric to be sure, but what exactly makes this alright?"

"Well they're dead, aren't they?" the other shrugged.

"But you're –."

"S'alright s'long as you thank 'em afterwards."

"But you just said –."

"One," Undertaker hissed back importantly and the steps came right up beside them. "Must never overlook cemetery etiquette."

The two had waited inside the musty space while the ring of businessmen discussed particularly illicit transactions in what they had believed to be privacy and confidence. A troublesome rival company to Funtom Enterprises, they said more than enough to provide the butler leads of inquiry that would eventually end their corporation in financial ruin and a generous cheque of gratitude from the Queen. Undetected for the entirety of the hurried conversation, the demon and his companion had slipped back towards the gravesite in time to greet Ciel who shot them questioning glances as he had let Sebastian lead him to his carriage.

"_Crypts. That's the key. If I can–."_

"It isn't sincere, you know." Cosette spoke up, voice surprisingly soft. Sebastian started, focus temporarily broken.

"_Oh? What angle is this?"_

"You really are a fool; you're allowing yourself to be one. Perhaps," a fragile smile quirked over her lips and blew away almost as quickly. "Perhaps you are one simply because you wish to see things as you want to see them."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously.

"_There, the last crypt in sight before we reach the Dissenter's Gallery. I'll only have this one shot, else risk losing my chance to reach Ciel unhindered."_

"You stayed." The succubus answered simply. "You think you love him, don't you?"

"Think?"

"Yes, think. That's what you want to believe, isn't it? That's why you've been so stubborn. It hurts me that you do this, you know. It truly does. I understand you, dearest, I do. He's your mate so you feel you must love him, even if it hurts you. It isn't reciprocated though, and you know it. Deep down you do. He may be a human yet, but that child of yours feeding off of him, it has your blood in it. Caulist blood. That's _strong_ blood, dearest, and it should have poisoned him a bit by now, let the instincts set in. He wouldn't have known what he was doing, sure, but all the same – if his feelings were the same as what you want to feel, surely he would have mated you in return?"

Sebastian halted, throat constricting unpleasantly as the words seeped in. The rain fell heavily about them as Cosette turned to him, a near genuine embodiment of the innocent woman she had first approached them as. Something legitimate and sad flickered in her eyes as she forced his to meet them, a lacy hand cupping his cheek.

"It hurts, dearest, doesn't it?" she whispered, warm body pressing to his front. "You don't need to fight that any longer. You needn't tie yourself down to someone who doesn't love you back. Forget all I said about begging. See? I understand you better; I know why you reacted so unlike yourself."

"Love me back?" the demon repeated slowly. "Do you mean to suggest…?"

The succubae's eyes lit up with understanding, and she nodded excitedly. "Yes, dearest, you and I, we can forgive all these silly past transgressions. There's a place for you here, in your own natural world beside Leona and I. And the two of us, well, we know the sting of betrayal and hollow promises, do we not? Surely we can find that with one another?"

"Find love?" Sebastian clarified, hesitantly brushing a lock of brunette hair back with a claw. "You've really had the right intentions, haven't you?"

"Yes!" Cosette replied breathlessly, lips hovering beneath the demon's own.

"Then…" he began lowly, fingers curling about her waist. "How do you suggest we go about it?"

"_Well_," the coy smile returned, ushering out the heavy lidded eyes and the scent tendrils of the succubae's allure. "I do know _one_ way – _OH_!" She gasped as her back met soundly with granite, the weight of the demon crushed against her front. Lusty growls met her ear as Sebastian worked his fingers up her torso, cupping a breast with a rapturous palm. A free hand worked its way around the back of her neck, possessively pulling her along as they stumbled blindly into dark corners, mindless of their surroundings as they exchanged quick bites and touches.

Cosette moaned as she was pressed against a cool wall, silenced quickly by the demon's lips, kissing her deeply as fingers cinched up the hem of her skirts. A slender leg wrapped about his hip, letting the butler corner her erotically in the unusual space. "Where," she panted as Sebastian recaptured her lips. "Where are we?" Suddenly the fingers at her neck tightened painfully and she winced, biting at the other's intruding tongue, instantly rewarded with fresh blood. She spat it out and glared suspiciously at Sebastian, wriggling in his grip, crimson spokes growing thicker within her irises. "_Where. Are we_?"

"In a crypt, it seems." The demon smiled pleasantly, claws sinking into the underside of the woman's thigh. She hissed in discomfort as the pressure increased. "Don't you enjoy that _dearest_?" he chided, letting blood freely flow across his hand and drip to the stony floor. "And here I thought you might be a kink, my mistake."

"What are you doing? Let me go." The succubus hissed, still writhing against the pressure at her neck, cheeks flushing with the effort. She lashed out wildly, sampling the demon's blood on her fingers, smearing it across her body as she fought to regain control. "Let me go _now_."

"Certainly." Sebastian hummed, turning sharply and throwing her against the opposing wall. Something cracked, and the sound reverberated in the small space. Cosette groaned, about to right herself from her heap on the floor when the demon was at her again, dragging her upright by the hair. "I believe you were trying to teach me something regarding 'love'." He reminded, wrapping the soaked strands about his hand, pulling viciously at her scalp. "And you see, I disagree with your theory." With a jerk, he bashed her skull against the stone, appearing a split second later beyond the entrance of the vault.

Watching in sadistic satisfaction as the woman reeled in pain, he clanged shut the thick iron gates and twisted the metal bars in a complicated knot, barring her from exiting the makeshift cell. "I hadn't been mistaken when I had called you trash before; you're no more than some parasite that feeds off of another, it is all you can do. Flutter about until you find something sustainable and take from it all you can and cast it aside. You use selfishly. Truly it's no wonder you're always alone – do you really count Leona as a _friend_?" the demon broke off with a cruel laugh as the woman sat up sluggishly, sending a poisonous glare his way that didn't quite reach his form. "You need your control, don't you? That's what your perception of love is: manipulation. But you can't bend Leona to your will, can you? She's too smart, too powerful for that, and you're a coward. So you tag alongside her like vermin, try to suck up her glory, vicariously experience her wealth. It's despicable. What do you know of loyalty or trust or sacrifice? Of _empathy_? You've torn out all those complicated things, haven't you? You were right – it is easier to believe the world is as you wish it to be. But that isn't reality, _dearest_. You threw out every last scrap of goodness in you because it got in the way of your delusions. Living beings aren't _dolls_ you can just force to do and say as you please. What right do you have to try and fuck with me? What right do you have to call into question the things I know to be reality, what I've been allowed to cherish? What do you know of 'love'? The only thing you've _ever_ loved," he sneered, dropping into a mocking bow, "is _yourself_."

The scene dropped away behind him as he raced back to the Anglican chapel. Delayed screams of fury and expletives drowned out as the cemetery dashed by in one wide green blur. A shadow eclipsed his path, buffeting him with wind. He narrowly ducked, hissing in pain as a single talon nicked the side of his face, a razor thin line of blood welling from the cut as the harpy winged past. It twisted back to croak angrily at him, flying straight for his caged mistress.

Sebastian laughed aloud, a strangled cry of relieved mirth as he vaulted off the tops of headstones, keeping free from the mud that would only pull greedily at his feet and slow his progress. The blood roared in his ears and he knew that his pupils must have reduced to feline slits, endorphins crashing through his body in jittery bursts, spurring him onwards. _"It worked and there's still time. There's still time. He'll be safe. He's just ahead, I can smell him, just a stretch farther –."_

Soma and Agni were before the white steps, staring back down The Green to where the snatcher had retreated, slack jawed and uncertain how to proceed. Sebastian thought to warn them of the creature's return, but thought the better of it, wrenching free a twisted bar of wrought iron gate, the metallic screech sounding not unlike the gigantic bird. The pair spun back around, eyes meeting open air as the demon dashed past them, already through the front doors of the chapel, dimmed scene focusing before his eyes.

They stood before a wooden slab, barren of a casket, Ciel to the left and a tall buxom blonde to the left. A sneer distorted her beauty, emerald irises hardened into jeering slants, painted red lips curled back to reveal straight, pearly fangs. Dark peals of laughter still bubbled from her mouth, soft waves of hair cascading down her chest, only intent upon her prey. "How cheeky, Earl Phantomhive." She muttered in a disarmingly dulcet tone. "Though I should have expected nothing less of such a lowly whore and his bastard child –."

Sebastian snarled and slid behind her in one graceful motion, lunging forward with a sharp thrust. For a moment her body wavered, suspended by the shaft piercing through her back, before crumpling against the earl with a contorted gasp. _"Don't."_ he thought fiercely, watching with pleasure as the woman rose slowly from her shock, the swell of blood encroaching on her scent. _"Don't you dare endanger my mate and don't you think you can insult our kit and get away with it."_ With a growl he tugged the rod back, tearing it free of her body and audibly cutting through organ and muscle.

Leona gasped, choking as blood filled her mouth, spilling over the sides of her lips as she stumbled back, jarring against the butler's chest, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. The makeshift weapon clattered to the ground as cold fingers clasped about her neck, forcing her chin up as she struggled to breath, the puncture to one lung slowly healing from the surprise attack. The demon smiled down at her, a thin sheet of calm covering a tempest. "It would be in your best interest not to insult the integrity of my master, Miss Fitzpatrick." He suggested, smoothing clawed forefinger along the bulge of her jugular, delighting in her writhing as he toyed with it, increasing pressure as he cut into the skin –

– and moved away, thinking the better of it and squeezing hard over her wind pipe, slowly suffocating the succubus, letting the pressure build up. Her spine creaked in warning and she released an earsplitting scream, snapping fingers on both sides as she wrenched his hand from her throat. She struck hard, thin claws dragging across his scalp as disjointed fingers collided with his cheek, the force knocking him aside for one crucial moment. The tussle knocked the gate pole further away, clanging metallically against the slab floor as warm blood began to mat in the roots of the demon's hair, overwhelming him with the proximity of the scent.

A sharp knee met his gut, knocking the rest of the wind from him as Leona set the entirety of her weight against him, fingers latching about his neck. He thrashed, securing his claws back against hers as the doors groaned and splintered, bursting forth to reveal two forms. Ciel was just turning to recognize them and true, icy horror seized Sebastian, coiling around his heart, knowing he wouldn't be able to intercede. A burst of adrenaline and he had reversed positions with Leona, surprising her as her body healed over entirely, strength returning to her limbs "Young mast –." He called, but Cosette and the harpy were already upon them.

Leona snarled and bit at his arm with feral rage, determined to keep his eyes on her. Behind them came the rustle of fabric and animalistic snarls, met with fresh blood as Cosette's screaming filled the cavernous chapel, shrill voice echoing about their heads.

"What do you think you're doing, _darling_?" It screeched, matching pitch with the sound of scraping talons. "You think that little thing will stop me?"

Sebastian twisted, desperately trying to see what was going on. "Don't forget who you're fighting, wretch." The blonde spat, flipping them yet again and throwing the butler sharply against the stone tile. Black spots danced across his vision, grip loosening just briefly enough for Leona to heave his hands from her neck and latch into his own, laughing manically as he gagged against the deepening intrusion.

"Go ahead, Ciel." Cosette whisper reverberated about, intensifying in the demon's ears as he struggled to shake his attacker, clawing mercilessly at her exposed stomach as they squirmed on their sides, swiping lines of blood across each other's struggling form.

"Try me."

"I apologize, mademoiselle." A distinct voice called from the busted in doorway. There was a scuffle of feet indicating that Cosette had been successfully distracted. "I usually would never lay a hand on a woman."

Air rushed to Sebastian's lungs as Leona seemingly _disappeared_, the shapes of the world coming back to the demon as something made impact with a sickening crunch. Still on his side, Sebastian watched as the blurry figure stood his ground, making motions with his hands that produced… snow?

"_Bandages."_ He realized. His previous gratitude had not been misplaced. _"Agni_."

"… this is a special circumstance." The other butler said, bare palm facing forward. Muscle and cartilage contracted in one brief second, and Cosette leapt into the attack, flanked by the harpy as they charged the Indian. The shriek of the bird dizzied Sebastian, but he shook off the effect, straightening just as the brunette reached Agni, small feet suddenly beating the air as she was bodily lifted and flung aside to crumple, boneless, against her benefactress. A second later and he was embracing his mate, encircling his waist and tearing out of the chapel.

The harpy and Agni stood before them, then flashing past them as the demon whipped around and yelled, "The heart!" He saw the widening of his friends eyes just as they barreled out into the cemetery. Unrelenting rain doused them, driving the streaks of blood from Sebastian's face and washing it of his hair, staining the collar of his dress shirt. Soma was yelling something anxiously, receiving the earl and checking him for damages, but Ciel was seeing none of it, glossy eyed and in shock. "I'm sorry, darling." The demon whispered, caressing a frigid cheek.

Twin screams rent the air, one a chilling whistle of a dying tea kettle, the other a trilling soprano. A conspiracy of ravens took wing from their roost on the roof, flocking to the trees beyond as their brethren staggered from the chapel steps. Agni darted out ahead of it, right hand tucking against his chest as he ran, leaving the demon torn between emotions.

"_So you understood."_

"I'm sorry, my love, I must." He whispered hurriedly.

"Watch him." He instructed brusquely to the prince, nudging the catatonic Ciel in his direction. Anxiously, Soma seized him, dragging them both under the shelter of a large tree, protectively placing his body before the earl's.

Quickly the demon whirled about, rejoining his fellow butler. The whistling screams of Cosette and the bird continued, crashing about in his head and overwhelming his senses. "Good work!" he yelled over the din. Agni shot him a pained smile, the tumorous heart oozing blackened blood down his arm. The harpy cawed and descended sharply, diving into their path, the succubus charging from behind. "TURN!" Sebastian called, jerking the other back towards the chapel by a stained sleeve.

Cosette followed their movements, boots caked in mud as she dug her heels into the path, blood lathered and snarling. Crimson swathed against her face and neck, painted there by slicked curls that tangled askew. Her eyes flashed red entirely, and Sebastian tensed, readying as her aura expanded, electric and angry. "Keep her distracted." He directed lowly as his friend nodded and ran ahead. Cosette sprang, tattered skirts flying about her as she aimed for the retreating Indian. Pained sounds rang out behind the demon as he propelled forward, shooting past her and searching for the weakened harpy.

"CIEL!"

"_SHIT. Shit, NO."_ he cursed, trembling as the hulking form of the avian descended upon his mate, talons outstretched and reeling in something silvery and opaque. _"His soul."_ The word plummeted like ice down to his gut. Fear unlike he'd ever experienced coursed through him, and for a moment he stood stock still in genuine shock. Ciel moaned aloud, flailing about as his knees buckled beneath him. Watery mud splashed from the impact, and he writhed about still, convulsing as his soul was slowly pried from his body. In seconds he could be dead. Their kit could be dead. Or worse, he could survive as some pitiable creature, completely unresponsive to the world about him, existing without thought or emotion. An empty shell. And Sebastian would have to kill him then, out of mercy, even though the act would utterly kill him.

He knew, he knew all along. He had feared it, and Cosette herself had pointed it out. Ciel was still human, still just a speck of life against their immortal canvas. A bad chill, a broken limb, a fall – any of it could snuff out the fragile existence, and there would be nothing the demon could do to prevent it. Nature would always win out, would always take back the life it bestowed. _"Not this time, not yet. I can't let him go just yet."_

The resolution unstuck his limbs, fear and anger making an unstable emotional cocktail within his demonic blood. The air was whipping past him, biting cold and burning his skin. Muscles cracked and popped as fingers stiffened, claws extending to deadly black needles. Then a flurry of feathers and the world was spinning in dizzying arcs, dark plumage and grey clouds and skeletal trees, all tumbling about as the overpowering scent of coarse blood and decaying animal and oily feathers assaulted him, warm fluid seeping through his sleeves, slicking between his fingers, a deafening scream in his ears.

Sebastian jostled to the ground, back slamming into the hard packed earth, the sky above swinging about in a multitude of images, slowly settling into one dim picture. He rolled to his side, looking back at the scene: not a foot from him was the harpy's monstrous head, beak frozen agape, tongue puffed and lolling out the side of its face. Metres away lay the rest of its mangled body, convulsing with the last impulses of fight and shivering to a stop, bowels releasing as death stole over. Ciel was pushing himself upright, hair streaked with mud, his once elegant outfit cut up and smeared with blood and dirt, a large streak across his chest from where Sebastian had kicked him away, breaking the snatchers hold on the younger's soul.

Shakily Sebastian rose, world eerily quiet, a faint ringing about his head. Ciel had convulsed and was throwing up in the mud, trembling as tears ran down his face unchecked. He became aware of Soma, not quite certain where the teen had been in the duration of his fight with the snatcher. The prince looped his arms about the earl and drug him away from the sick, lips running at full speed, words that the demon couldn't quite hear falling from them. The pair had turned their eyes to him and suddenly Soma's mouth rounded into what had to be a scream. Why was he screaming? Then, _oh_.

Splitting pain as claws sunk into his skin, tearing his arm viciously to the side and wrenching it free from the socket. A low roar filled his ears and he realized that the succubus was growling, blonde hair splayed out about her as she lunged and slashed out again. It felt as though her claws were still lodged into him, ripping at the nerves with pinpointed pressure, trying to detach the limp arm completely. Pushing the pain from his mind, Sebastian spun about, swinging out his leg and delivering a sharp kick to Leona's face, her neck snapping back painfully as his heel met her jaw. She stumbled back from him, clawing at her face as blood trickled steadily from her mouth and nose.

His palm met the juncture of his shoulder, quickly assessing the damage. It would still heal. He grit his teeth and grabbed the useless limb, popping it back in place with an agonized wince, fire lancing through the entire side of his body, stiffness setting in. He glanced to Leona in time to see her cracking her neck back into place, sliding the discs back into a proper alignment, but her attention had wavered, pinned instead on Ciel and the prince.

There was a piercing noise, and Cosette and Agni barreled into the blonde, launching them into a flurry of hair and flailing claws. Screams began to form in his head as his hearing slowly returned and he headed into the fray. Cosette had pulled herself up, Agni grappling with her. With a shriek, she set her claws against a deep wound that ran diagonally across his chest, throwing him away from her. Sebastian snarled and charged her, ducking around her flailing limbs and laying neat incisions across her exposed torso. Her bodice groaned, boning and inflamed skin peering between the slashed fabrics. A sharp elbow collided with the crook of his neck and he gasped, dodging away as she pressed a hand to her bleeding abdomen.

Agni had launched attack against Leona, and the demon could dimly hear them tussling about around them, green and blue flashes of their clothing dancing among the crooked headstones, bodies slamming with jarring cracks. Sebastian straightened, only to be blown back down again as Cosette's heel collided with his jaw, slicing into his skin and staining the white leather with crimson. Feral growls fell from his lips as his composure slipped away and he strode up to her, blocking her wild swings with ease as the pain ebbed away from his consciousness, replaced instead by the return of his faculties and raw determination. His fingers fisted through her hair, a genuine reenactment of his prior performance, claws grazing across her scalp as he pulled her from her huddled ball on the ground. She screamed as her feet left the ground, kicking about and smacking against his knees. She laughed coldly and shook her, her body waving about with loud snaps and going limp like a doll. Amused, he flung her from him, watching her body careen through the air and smash against the chapel steps brokenly.

The bloodlust faded as the danger receded, adrenaline having already repaired the worst of his injuries. Revitalized, he wiped away the plastered locks of hair on his forehead, smearing blood – he wasn't even sure whose blood – across his skin. He sought out Soma's hunched form and relaxed instantly, his mate curled up in the prince's arms. He appeared at their side, quickly assessing the pair for damages and finding none. "Young master." He instructed, uncertain if his words were even registering. Soma looked up in his stead, silently begging for direction. The demon continued to direct to his catatonic mate. "Now would be an opportune time to seek cover along with Master Soma."

Ciel released a low moan, an almost-reply to the butler's suggestion. Soma whimpered at the lack of response, gathering the earl in his arms and giving Sebastian a curt nod as he drug the other teen away. The demon spared a moment to ascertain that they had sought shelter in a large vault, ivy encroaching its broken iron doors, hiding their escape from view. Another howl tore his attention back to the fight and he was off again, flying blindly at the assailant.

This time it was Leona, her hair wild and matted with mud and blood and twigs, claws caked with a nauseating concoction of the three. They flailed about, landing blows where they could reach, her fingers grappling to find purchase on his face. A single claw sliced through his brow and he threw her just before it connected with his eye. Blood bubbled up and blinded his vision as he rounded on the woman. She swore loudly and picked herself up from the ground, cracked obelisks littered around her in jagged pieces.

Sebastian pawed furiously at his eye, thrown off balance by the loss of vision. Leona was already upon him, diving for his midsection and driving him bodily to the ground. Thighs clenched around his sides, pinning him beneath her weight. Again her claws sailed for his eyes, then the hands were skittering away into open air, a shadow descending over the demon's prone form as Agni cracked a headstone across the succubae's back. Winded, she crumpled sideways, and Sebastian was back on his feet, using his friend's offered hand as leverage.

Together they dove for the blonde, who rolled out from under their attacks, narrowly escaping towards a stand of evergreens. "Aim to kill!" The caulist yelled as bandages flew out around them. Agni's palm thrust forward and Leona froze in her tracks, body bending unnaturally backwards before crashing into a trunk, flipping about so her chest lay exposed to them. Sebastian rushed towards her, fingers crushing about her throat as fingers tore deep ruts into her neck, threatening to sever it. With a pained grunt, she freed her legs from Agni's assault, curling them up and plunging them against Sebastian's body, forcing him away.

"I'm not some petty bird, you cretin." She spat, claws narrowly missing his kidneys as they spun about. "You can't just decapitate me."

"Oh?" Sebastian jeered, slicing down her back, tearing open the delicate fabric of her dress to the stained underclothes beneath. "You keep the French as company; I assumed it was your style." She snarled in reply, biting savagely at his wrist and ripping the skin to shreds with her fangs. Sebastian knew he was yelling, voice lost in the fray, and desperately he drove his elbow into the back of her neck, making an awful cracking noise that made her gasp and let go. She doubled over and the demon drove a knee into her stomach, flinging her up into the air.

She twisted about and found purchase in the boughs of a chestnut tree. She laughed shrilly as she crouched, pouncing like a wild animal and tangling her limbs about him. Metres from them, Sebastian could hear Agni's deep bellows as he staved off attacks. _"Cosette must have recovered._" He wrangled Leona from his body, driving his knee upwards repeatedly until she had shaken free, still howling like a banshee and slashing furiously at his face. She jerked her chin upwards and yelled out as rivaling claws sunk into her cheek, piercing through the thick skin and grazing over her tongue.

Something was stirring, the air was growing stagnant as Agni and Cosette's fight dimmed down, the blonde before him still deaf to the change and hissing madly at her failure. "Stop fighting." A firm voice ordered. The willpower drained from Sebastian's limbs and he turned as best he could to see Ciel standing before them, not really staring at anything. The fighters froze, watching him intently. Blood stained the torn front of his dress shirt, and something dark – _his coat_ – was bundled up tight against his abdomen, dripping as fresh blood spread down the front of his pants. "Stop fighting." He repeated. "It's over."

"_No._"

Something was wrong, horribly, tremendously wrong. The glazed over eyes, and bundle at his stomach… _"There's too much blood, too much. His skin is so pale, he's shaking. There's too. Damn. Much."_ Something dark and terrible entered his mind and he forced it away. _"It can't be. Please no. Please. Speak darling, say something else. Please."_

Leona was gaping at the earl, hair flattening back down as her eyes flickered back to green. His eyes didn't reach hers, still settling over The Green and the carnage of the harpy. The blonde sputtered in disbelief, completely forgetting about the claws lodged into her cheek. Sebastian forgot them as well, only able to look at his master. His mate. Dread filled him.

"Young mas –."

"It's dead." The earl said bluntly. The breath rushed out of the demon's lungs, a tingling numbness taking over.

"_No."_ he thought resolutely. _"Why…?"_

A dark smile twitched over Ciel's face, lusterless eyes turning between the two succubae. For a moment he didn't say anything, tears coursing down his grimy cheeks. "I made sure of it." he laughed humorlessly, head lolling forward as he stared down at his feet, at the thing clutched before him. He shifted, pressing the cloak tighter against himself, and the blood spilled forth, puddling at his feet. It was all the demon could smell. Fragrant blood, drenched in sugar and what had been pregnancy and what gentle things could have been their kit. Another dry laugh as the earl clutched harder at the bundle, shaking hands white knuckled. "It's in here."

"_Why? My love, my darling, _why_? This fight wasn't lost: there was still a chance to win so why did you throw it away?"_ The dread petered out, replaced with hollow acceptance. The foolish dreams he'd had, the hopes he'd let hold sway over his mind and heart. The image of the rosy cheeked child with dark swathes of hair… he swallowed hard and willed it all away. It hurt too much to just think. _"I should be grateful."_ He thought numbly. _"He's alive and this… well they can't justify killing him. They made a promise. At least there's that."_

A low moan and Cosette crumpled to her knees, skirt spread about her in muddied golden tatters. "Damn it. _Damn it_!" she screamed, tearing at her gnarled hair and beating the ground like an overgrown child. "DAMN IT ALL!" Leona scoffed at the fit, fingers curling around Sebastian's wrist and wrenching his claws free from her face, pushing away from the unresponsive demon as she wheeled suspiciously on Ciel.

"Why would you –?" she queried, cocking her head and wrapping her arms about her chest. Her bloodied lips curled into a sneer decided the answer wasn't worth it. She could smell the blood, and the baby's blood, still pouring freely from the wound. "Worthless brat." She hissed, storming over to Cosette.

"My… My baby!" the brunette wailed, scampering towards the headless bird on bloody palms and knees. Her skirts tangled up in her heeled boots and she fitfully tossed about, snagging them further with loud rips as fat tears cascaded down her cheeks. "My baby… _mon petit ange noir_…!" She reached the head first, dragging it to her bosom by it paralyzed beak and wrapping her arms about it, already dragging herself over to the reminder of its body, moaning and whining piteously as she crossed through the sick and mud to rest by its side. Gross sobs wracked her body as she swooned over the mottled creature. "I wanted to kill it! _I wanted to_! But they took that away from me, _mon ange_! And they took you, too!"

"Get up." Leona hissed, striding over to the defeated woman and seizing the scruff of her neck, giving her a fierce shake. Cosette whimpered and allowed herself to be jerked about, shivering and collapsing in the woman's grip until the blonde give up and disgustedly tossed her against the base of a tree. The brunette choked back a cry and skittered back over to her pet, rocking childishly as she mourned over it in babbling streams of French, torn between little ditties and sentences that all flowed together without end.

Sebastian tore himself from the scene, remembering himself. His master still stood bracingly before him, watching the display impassively as he hugged the… _"Don't think about what it is, don't imagine, just stop, stop."_ … cloak to his stomach, the cobalt fabric splotchy with brown-red patches of fresh and drying blood. _"Surely he'll pass out soon, it is only adrenaline that's kept him upright. If he pushes himself too far… no, I can't lose him too. I refuse to."_

Gently, he placed a hand to Ciel's shoulder, hoping he only imagined the way that the teen seemed to shy away from his touch. _"Why won't you look at me?"_ he wondered, half begging with despair. _"You know that I love you, don't you? Do you fear now that our… that without the kit, my feelings will change? Please acknowledge me, darling."_ But the earl refused to budge, watching stonily as the furious blonde stormed up to them both.

"You think it's this easy? Hmmn?" she asked irately. Hair kept falling in her eyes, enraging her further as she pushed it back repeatedly, smearing blood – and the demon suspected it might be his own – over her waning beauty. Something had cracked, deep down, and traces of madness gleamed in her cold green eyes. "You think you can drag it out this long and merely get away with it?"

"I believe our deal of the bargain has been met, Miss Fitzpatrick." Sebastian replied coldly, a dangerously amiable smile pressing over his lips. "Unless you'd like to further discuss matters? However, I don't believe your companion would be in the best of situations to do so."

The group paused and threw a collective look over at the deplorable Frenchwoman, her arms still latched about the decapitated head. Leona hissed in contempt, speaking lowly through bared teeth. "You may have held up your end of the deal. But don't believe for a moment I won't return to collect your debt." With a sniff she wheeled about, fixing her coconspirator with a glare. "COSETTE!"

The brunette flinched, burying her nose in the feathers as if awaiting some nasty impact. When none came, she blinked up with red rimmed eyes and colourless cheeks. "_Quoi_…?"

"Move, you worthless cur." Leona barked, crossing over to the woman in a few short strides. The smaller flinched once more, quickly dragged to her feet as the blonde jerked her upright by a bedraggled sleeve. She careened at the sudden movement, cradling the snatcher's head possessively as her heels dragged against the torn-up ground.

"We're leaving." Leona snapped, and Cosette simply nodded whimpering into the other's breasts as she stared back at the creature's body. In a violent movement, Leona had shaken the brunette and then wrapped her arms about her as massive, leathery wings unfolded from her back. With a massive beat, then two, then three, they had lifted off the ground and grew smaller and smaller against the grey sky.

Then they were gone, a single black harpy feather flittering down in their wake.

At once Ciel collapsed, wheezing and coughing as tears welled up in his eyes. Sebastian cried out in alarm and knelt beside him as the teen curled up, doubled over in apparent pain, curious laughter choking out through his gasps. At a hesitant touch, the earl rolled over to one side, staring up at his butler with a thin smile and shining, albeit tired eyes.

"My lord." Sebastian stated, taken aback by the curious behavior and uncertain how to proceed. _"I'm just so thankful that you're alive."_ Wordlessly he lowered himself to the muddy ground, taking the earl by the shoulders and embracing him tightly, placing a small kiss to his cheek and just _breathing_. He took in everything. The sweat, the soppy mud, the still drizzling rain, the blood, so much blood, the musk of his mate's skin, the clotted grass, the dust of old graves, and beneath it, all of it, the very essence and sweetness that was Ciel. Alive. Breathing.

As he broke away, the hazy sun parted through the clouds as dusk approached, a chalky rainbow just visible through the silver white clouds and evening showers. _"It's surreal_." He thought, cupping his mate's head in his hands and thumbing small arcs across pale cheeks. _"It's all surreal. And I love you, so, so much. I just wish…"_ His throat clenched tighter as it had before and he realized that it was tears that threatened to fall. Ciel read his gaze and squirmed against his touch, something akin to guilt flashing through his eyes.

The demon frowned in confusion as the earl dropped his gaze briefly, and he followed the glance to the teen's stomach, where the bundle was gently being removed. Sebastian stared. A shallow gash ran horizontally against the lily stomach, caked with blood but benign. Genuine shock crashed through the demon. He could still smell the kit; the scent still clung to his mate's body, which meant –

"I lied." Ciel whispered triumphantly, smiling as the butler continued to stare back, completely dumbfounded. "I couldn't meet your eyes, or else I'd give it away. Since the child's scent is mixed in with my blood, I was certain I'd be able to fool them by keeping the cloth close to me." He continued tiredly, the sheer mirth and relief never fading from his eyes.

"_So you made a bluff, bled yourself on purpose and used our senses against us."_ Sebastian thought with dawning realization. During the battle his senses had been overwhelmed on numerous occasions, up until the point he had lost his hearing. _"I never thought to do the same to either of them; they must have also suffered as I did."_

With a soft hum the earl continued, voice growing softer as his body relaxed in Sebastian's arms. "The rest was acting. However, I knew that in order to fool them, I would have to fool you as well, Sebastian. If you weren't convinced, then they would obviously be unconvinced as well. Not to doubt your acting skills, of course." A delirious laugh escaped his lips, and the demon couldn't help but to smile, overwhelmed with appreciation and pride and gratitude.

He curled his fingers beneath his mate's chin, stroking his face affectionately. "How clever of you, my lord." He replied lightly. Ciel smiled at the words, lids flicking shut as the rest of his body went limp, out stone cold with blood loss and exhaustion. Gingerly Sebastian curled the prone form to his chest, lifting him up from the filth bridal style.

Soma and Agni watched from a distance as he approached, unable to wipe the giddy smile from his face. The prince sunk against his butler, their laced fingers just visible through the folds of their clothing. "Will he be alright?" Soma asked, anxiously peering over at the earl's unconscious face.

"He should be, yes." Sebastian breathed. "They _both_ should be."

The duo looked at him in wonder. "Both?" Agni repeated, staring at the bloodied shreds of cloth matted to the teen's body.

"I'll explain later." The demon replied serenely, turning and heading back down the Centre Avenue as the sherbert coloured sky peered over the horizon, the sun setting behind the hulking rise of the chapel. "It's truly all over now." He called. "It's time to go home."

* * *

The following days passed by in a blur.

Life, in a way, had returned to normalcy, and there were always chores to be done. Sebastian had bathed and clothed his mate and laid him to bed, and there the earl remained in comatose sleep for many long hours. The night had come and went, bringing a painted peach dawn to the quiet chamber. Since returning home the demon hadn't left the other's side, bathing quickly and toeing off his shoes to join his mate under the covers.

He watched over Ciel as the time drained by, caressing his face and licking the small visible wounds until they became thin and pink and eventually disappeared from sight. His fingers rubbed and messaged over the other's abdomen, carefully stroking along the sensitive scarring flesh. Something within him kept him from bathing that one away, leaving the puckered flesh visible.

The first spokes of dawn had crept through the shutters when the earl finally began to stir, moaning sleepily as fatigued limbs begged him to return to his dreamless rest. Sebastian smiled, watching with affectionate pride as Ciel's fingers reached for his middle, stroking the sacred area with relief. His hand eclipsed the earl's and their fingers twined together, their bodies naturally pulling together, tired limbs tangling into a close embrace, kissing slowly and deeply. They laid together for a beautiful eternity, languidly caressing each other's face, petting soft locks of hair and just breathing, feeling one another, gratefully and purely.

Sebastian was the first to pull away, fatherly instincts keeping him from simply lying there forever. When he came back with a mild plate of food, the earl was already fast asleep. Affectionately, he crawled back onto the mattress and gently prodded his mate into wakefulness, letting him lay against his chest as he spooned chicken broth to his parted lips.

The next three days Ciel spent recuperating, wrapped in a multitude of sheets and pillows. He slept often and slowly built up a voracious appetite, much to the demon's amusement and chagrin. Time after time he patiently reminded his mate of what he was and wasn't allowed – chiefly that he must stay in bed for his own health and that no, for the time being he was not permitted a mostly-sweets-based diet.

The house was cleaned, the remaining evidence of damages repaired. Sebastian tended to the garden to pass the time, slowly turning it back over to Agni's care. It wasn't long before he noticed his fellow butler out among the flowers with his charge, pointing out the various species and teaching the prince about the various kinds of plants. He went out to the shops of London in two short trips, anxious to leave his master alone for too long. He placed the earl's holiday orders and returned to the tea shop, generously buying bulk supply of English Breakfast and Earl Grey. The mortician had teased him about the later when he had stopped in to chat, but the butler was too genuinely content to bother with being provoked.

Whenever he could afford to, he curled up in bed beside his met, showering him with affection that was always returned with gusto. It was to be understood that the master bedroom was in fact _their_ room, a turn of terminology that Soma was happy to use as frequently as possible. He begged Sebastian morning and night to be permitted in to see his friend, but the demon kindly denied him, saying that the stress would be too much. After a third night of near as tying Ciel to the mattress to get him from leaving of his own accord, he let the eager prince in to see him the following morning, shortly after which Ciel announced that he wished to depart for the main estate.

On the fifth morning, the first flakes of snow began to fall from the feathered grey heavens, wispy clouds drifting about in the chilled London air. Clothes were neatly pressed and folded, tucked into carpeted steamer trunks and secured to the top of their carriage. Early morning lamplight still flickered up and down the streets and Sebastian made his goodbyes.

"My lord?" he called from their bedroom doorway, leaning casually upon the frame. Ciel sat tucked upon the velvet window seat as downy flakes gathered in the corners of the window panes. He turned his head slightly, watching their clear reflections. The demon smiled and fell into his habit; smiling all the while he bowed. "Your carriage has arrived."

"Are all the preparations made?" the earl asked, padding over to his butler and shrugging into a heavy black cloak as Sebastian secured it about his shoulders. The demon gave a knowing smile, and Ciel couldn't help but smirk in amusement.

"What would I be if I could not perform such a simple task for my lord?"

Together, they wound their way through the manor, calmly proceeding past the ghosts of the last several weeks, the memories skirting about from two different perspectives, dressing the estate in things they knew were better left off behind them.

Soma and Agni were waiting by the carriage, bundled in fur-lined coats as snow clung to their hair. The prince trembled and flung himself at the earl, sniffling into his shoulder and embracing him tightly. Sebastian sighed at the display, willing the teen to ease up so as not to accidentally injure his mate. His fellow butler sniffed in wry amusement and understanding and with a smile, Sebastian shook his hand in parting.

"Ciel! You have to promise that you'll visit soon!" Soma cried, half dancing in place and still hugging the earl. "I want to see your baby, Ciel! It's going to be the most beautiful baby in the _world_!"

"_Why thank you. Of course they will be."_

"And I want to see you and Sebastian get married, too!"

"Are you an invalid?" Ciel balked, but Sebastian didn't miss the blush that crept over his cheeks as he tried to wriggle free of his friend's grasp.

"_Well, are you interested?"_

"And I'm going to miss all of your insults, _too_!" Soma heaved a heavy sigh. The earl rolled his eyes but relented, returning the embrace at last and giving the prince a small squeeze. A small smile perked his lips before he regained his usual expression of annoyance and stepped free of the other's arms, striding over to the awaiting carriage.

"Well then; Agni, Master Soma." Sebastian smiled, offering a small bow to each as he helped Ciel up into the carriage. The earl settled onto the plush bench and the demon followed, securing thick blankets over his lap, gently rubbing his stomach before turning back to their hosts. "Thank you for your hospitality. We shall be sure to visit in the near future on business."

Agni bowed in return as Sebastian pulled the door closed, Soma crying after them, "Be sure to write!" Then the carriage was in motion with a slap of reigns and the soft whinny of the horse, the London landscape beginning to roll by. Ciel nestled into his seat, passing a hand before his eyes with a sigh.

"Are you glad to return home, my lord?" Sebastian asked softly, brushing a hand over his mate's thigh. Ciel shrugged dismissively and balled up the blankets in his hands, carefully standing as the carriage bumped along the cobblestone streets. Unsteadily, he shuffled across the space, lugging the coverings with him as he made his way to the opposing bench.

Be careful, darling." The demon asked gently, guiding his master as he sat down beside him, pulling the blankets up over their laps. He turned and nuzzled against his lover's shoulder, humming contentedly when Sebastian wound an arm about his waist, drawing them closer together. Lazily, he pet the earl's arm and shoulder, enjoying their relaxed proximity. Their lives had changed so dramatically in every aspect. In three short months everything had turned on its head, and the dividing lines between them and their destinies were smudged out. He placed a kiss to the crown of his mate's head.

Ciel sighed happily and reached for Sebastian's hand, drawing it up over his abdomen. The demon began to stroke the warm skin and paused, the weight of the past few days crashing down on him. He had nearly lost everything. They didn't live in a perfect faerie tale: life was still fragile, still uncertain. Ciel had bluffed and saved them, all three of them, in a way. For that he was beyond grateful. Yet uncertainty stayed his hand: Ciel had played the part beautifully. In the end was he truly forcing this fate upon him?

"_It is easier to believe the world is as you wish it to be. But that isn't reality, _dearest." His own enraged words crashed about him, and for the first time in many weeks he felt guilty.

"Sebastian?"

"Are you certain you wish to go through with this?" the demon asked quietly. At once the earl frowned, drawing into himself in indignation.

"What do you mean, Sebastian? Have I not made myself clear?" he shook his head, almost like an aggrieved wife, shooting the butler a cross look. "I've said in the past that this is what I want, and with those two out of the way we can –."

"They are still very much alive, my lord." Sebastian calmly interjected. "And they will be watching. You will have to be confined to the manor until the child is born, and even then they will come to discover its presence eventually – even beings other than our aggressors. Humans may be blind to such things, but there are many others who are bound to notice its presence eventually. While I refuse to let any harm come to you or our child, I know there will be hardships throughout our lives."

Hazy images of his childhood flickered through his mind's eye: the difficulties of growing up being considered lesser than those around him, living in a household of beings who barely thought him worthy of existence. He had known since then that his children would share the same hardships, the same burdens. That they would have to shoulder it and be strong. _"It isn't fair, little darling, and for that I am sorry."_ He thought to their child, delicately taking Ciel's chin between his fingers and staring into his eyes.

"And trials." He continued softly. "But not only for you, darling." He gazed down to his mate's stomach where his hand was still cupped. "Knowing this, do you still intend to finish what we have begun?"

"_Knowing that the quality of our child's life may not be as we would wish? Knowing that we may never find a place in this world, nor escape from the ceaseless hate? Would you shoulder that life with me, and still raise our kit to love and to be happy?"_

Ciel sat in silence, mulling over the implications. At length, he turned with a small smile, pressing his face against the butler's shoulder. "Yes." He breathed. "Yes, I do."

Immense joy flooded the demon, driving all sensible words from his mind, filling him completely and utterly. They would have a child. A family. With those few words, they had _become_ a family.

"However," Ciel continued, pulling away slightly. "I would still feel guilty."

"Oh?" the demon hummed, quirking his brow as he leaned in to caress his mate's cheek. "And why would that be?"

A dark blush burned across the earl's cheeks and he glanced away, the sentence no louder than a soft mumble, "I will become your burden."

The demon's eyes widened as he translated the simple words.

_You protected me when you didn't have to. You stayed by my side throughout it all, even though it hurt you._

He embraced his mate, crashing their lips together in a passionate kiss, filled with gratitude as he realized what he was being told for the first time:

_Thank you._


End file.
